


Sharp Teeth

by SpiderKatana



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: "Angel of Death" Peter Parker, Escaped Convict Peter Parker, M/M, Peter Is Morality Incarnate In The Suit, Protective Peter Parker, Serial Killer!Spidey, Spiderman is still Spiderman, Spideypool - Freeform, Wade Is In Love, Warning:This Shit Gets DARK, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2020-04-24 13:36:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 83,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19174366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiderKatana/pseuds/SpiderKatana
Summary: Spiderman doesn't kill... but Peter Parker does.This is the fic where Wade comes across convict Peter Parker and instantly becomes obsessed, only to be the indirect cause of the guy breaking out, and taking way longer to realize that Spiderman, his developing crush, is the same person. It's a hell of a lot darker than the description, but I promise it's worth it.





	1. Peter Parker: Angel of Death

So far, Deadpool's view of the New York prison system was… distinctly unimpressed.

 

To be fair, he'd only ever been in the ice box and S.H.I.E.L.D.'s 'containment facilities' before since they were too prim and proper to call a prison a prison, but essentially, if he could escape from maximum security areas intended to cage mutants, then an entirely too normal prison off the edge of New York City was _not_ a problem he would struggle to overcome.

 

What he _did_ struggle with however, was the whole, 'incognito' requirement of this particular job.

 

Deadpool was not, had not been, would _never_ be, a quiet individual. In fact, if someone ever described him as _quiet_ , he would take _offence_.

 

Hence, the issue at hand. He had to get into the prison, check. He had to find out which cell block his target was being held in and after plugging in the USB to the mainframe computer in the head honcho's office and giving Weasel remote access to the thing, well, check on that too! How exciting! But _then_ he was required to stay out of sight which, umm, no thank you? He wore bright red and two long sharp katanas on his back, why the hell would anyone insist on him for a job that required subtlety? And to ice their fucking cake, the client paid extra to ensure that there would be absolutely no casualties outside of what was contractually agreed, meaning that Deadpool had to actively refrain from attacking anyone that attacked him or void his pay.

 

[Ridiculous.]

 

{Why can't we just blow up the _whole_ thiiiiiing! This is taking too _loooong!}_

 

Cue the whining. Ugh.

 

He was frustrated enough without their input, but they never respected his wish for silence and it drove him insane.

 

[Right. Hate to break it to you, big guy, but that ship has _sailed._ ]

 

{Sailed, crashed, sunk, got ripped to pieces by sharks that smelled the rotting corpses on the inside and wanted a taste!}

 

Gross. Nasty.

 

_Anyway._

 

Once Weasel finally sent him a text indicating the location of the target, it turned out that the guy was in the maximum security ward in one of the many isolation units because of a fight between him and another inmate earlier in the week. That wasn't the problem. The fucking problem _was_ that this shitshow ward just happened to be on the opposite side of the mediocre little criminal lockup. It was _bullshit._

 

[You're getting too mediocre in your methods anyway. Rusty.]

 

{We are _not!_ There's nothing wrong with a little _boom_ to get the _party going!}_

 

[A little?]

 

 _{Yes.}_ Yellow was practically hissing defensively and Wade struggled not to laugh as he usually would have.

 

Silence was key. It was _horrible._

 

It reminded him of being in the military, back when it still mattered if he lost a limb because they were vital needs rather than regenerative commodities. You know, back when the damage _mattered._ It was so unnecessary to be this strategic now.

 

Usually, he could just barge in throw a grenade in the cell block and hide in the medical ward waiting for either a body or an injured target to appear and finish the job then, making sure any onsite doctors or nurses were just knocked out. A concussion wasn't going to kill anybody that was smart enough to seek treatment anyway, he wasn't offing anyone that was going to win at the Darwin awards _so fuck it._

 

[New life motto, there?]

 

{So fuck it. Nice. I like it!}

 

[Giving yourself an excuse to murder people through negligence. Classy.]

 

"Shut _up,"_ Wade hissed as quietly as he could.

 

The boxes were _distracting._ It was hard to keep an ear out for anyone coming down the hallways when they were blaring off opinions in his head that he’d never asked for.

 

There were no less than three close calls, all of which Wade evaded by throwing knives into the cells of unsuspecting inmates who then turned on their cellmates with their new steel weapons. It was a shame too, that had been a nice set of disposable blades and it would cost a good five hundred dollars to replace. However, this caused brawls to break out, neighboring cells to cheer people on or watch in sleepy bewilderment, and prison guards to run in the direction of the altercations and away from Deadpool. Weasel disabled the cameras and Wade had no doubt that whoever was in their tech room at that moment was absolutely losing their shit, which combined with the chaos Wade left in his wake, made the entire jail break out in a finely timed series of fear and bloodshed. It was _beautiful_ and since Wade was only providing knives, and not technically forcing anyone’s hand, he couldn’t be blamed for the following casualties! He would get his money _and_ his bloody cake too!

 

[Negligence. Again.]

 

{Lies! And the verdict iiiiis _not guilty! NOT GUILTY!}_

 

Wade was guilty as sin, but… there would be no camera feeds to confirm that so S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn’t be able to pin a new page to his ‘Confirmed Fatalities’ file and they could _suck it._

 

And anyway, this was a _maximum security prison._ The vast majority of the people stuck in here belonged on death row. Wade felt no remorse, too far into his career of maiming and decapitating to be stunned over a small prison riot.

 

An announcement crackled from the speakers and as Wade heard the command for all available guards to go to A ward to subdue rioting prisoners and search their cells for weapons, he grinned _unbearably wide,_ just a large toothy smile that stretched the seams of his mask.

 

Every time a prison guard blocked his way he sedated them, deciding finally to throw caution to the fucking wind and sing, “I CAME IN LIKE A **WRECKING BALL-”**

 

Guard after guard was shot up with enough tranquilizers to keep them immobile for the following eight hours _at least._ Wade took a few minutes to drag their asses into the laundry room. He took all their key rings and painstakingly tried each key until he managed to lock them in. It was for their own safety. If the prisoners all somehow managed to get out of their cells they would vastly outnumber the guards and he had already equipped a few with weapons, so it would be best for all parties involved if the riot was subdued until _after_ emergency units and enforcers arrived. No need to unalive innocent men.

 

Now to find his pesky little target.

 

[Finally! I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about the moneymaker entirely.]

 

{Were you serious about the cake at the end of this? Have you chosen a flavor? I want poppy seed or strawberry shortcake and oreo crumbs! Ooh! And caramel drizzle! Strawberry drizzle? Can we get ice cream on top!?}

 

It was an extremely over-the-top request, but his stomach rumbled in enthusiastic agreement.

 

[You’re both disgusting.]

 

When, after over _forty-seven goddamn minutes,_ Wade _finally_ found the isolation ward he realized in bitter frustration that he should have cut off some of the guard’s thumbs or something to have a viable fingerprint. Of course isolation would be harder to get into and heavily secured. The padlock even had a secondary code probably meant for each guard to punch in after their fingerprint was scanned. The only way Wade could get in would be shooting the thing, but the problem was that Wade hadn’t even considered bringing bullets to this little _fiesta_ since he was  trigger happy at the best of times and if he brought anything other than rubber bullets or sedatives, he knew some poor innocent schmuck would have paid the price in bright red arcs on the grimy walls. To be perfectly honest, it would have given the place some _desperately needed_ color. But the job called for no unnecessary casualties, so Wade couldn’t _directly_ cause any unnecessary casualties.

 

[Have you considered that by law being an accesory to murder, in any capacity, makes you eligible for a lengthy prison sentence?]

 

Wade briefly snorted. “By who’s standards?”

 

{The law can’t hold us down! _Can’t touch this! Dun-dun-dun-nun. Can’t touch this-}_

 

Wade did do the small dance that went with the song, at least, the dance he’d seen on one of the Just Dance Wii games. Which one _had_ it been? The first? The third? He wasn’t even sure how many were out at this point.

 

[By court standards.]

 

{Ha! Doesn’t matter! We break out all the time!}

 

[Uh huh. In more than one way, evidently.]

 

Wade shrugged and said nothing. White always made comments about their skin, it wasn’t anything new.

 

He focused back on his task and stared at the stupid padlock in mounting frustration, readying himself to just repeatedy stab the thing when he heard a creaking sound from one of the cells ahead. A sound he should _not_ have heard given that A) there were currently no guards left on this side of the prison and B) none of the cells in isolation could be opened from the inside. He’d had to wait _weeks_ during his first stint in prison to be let out to speak to an angry Logan about his rising kill count and refusal to _listen_ to the X-men when they preached their purity shmurity. It was violently sweet in a way, and Deadpool had used the golden opportunity to raise absolute hell and blow up half of the compound. It had been glorious.

 

But those cells were impossible to pry open from a convict’s end, so, “What the _fuck-”_

 

He had no words for a moment, his voices all rendered silent as a rather average sized, scrawny but semi-toned man strolled out of his cell, breathed in some air, and then turned his head and _only_ his head, to stare at Wade with a brief flash of complete and utter _bloodlust_ in his eyes before they cleared into indifference and Wade took in the soft dark brown innocent doe-eyed look of the guy he was currently calling _Houdini_.

 

And then the voices were screaming over each other in an attempt to get their warnings through.

 

[Get the fuck out right now-]

 

{... _Beautiful-}_

 

[-This isn’t _safe-_ ]

 

{-He’s perfect, can we kill for him? Please, _oh, pretty please, can we just-}_

 

[YOU’RE OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MINDS, MOVE.]

 

Never had White sounded so scared before and Wade felt like he’d seen that face, those innocent doe eyes, somewhere before, but he couldn’t for the life of himself place it or understand why it startled White so much he’d been reduced to shouting in desperation. In any case, he didn’t move. He couldn’t. The memory of that murderous stare rooted him to the spot, not in fear, but strangely, in curiosity. Who looks at a 210 pound 6 foot 2 man dressed in bright red with katanas portruding from behind him and immediately thinks, ‘Fuck _yeah,_ I can take him.’

 

White was still shouting at him, and Yellow was waxing poetic about the strange figure that had begun creeping down the small hallway toward them.

 

A large part of Wade just wanted to wink and claim the precious prisoner a sight for sore eyes, but for once he wanted to see what someone _else_ had to say. For the most part, Deadpool usually kept a long stream of loud conversation to drown out the silence and criticism of other people that judged him, but this guy, this precious little murderer couldn’t be any better than he was. There was no moral high ground for him to stand on, not from the inside of the isolation ward, and Wade wanted to hope, just once, that human interaction wouldn’t be so painfully awkward.

 

Pale bambi eyes reached the barred door at last and Wade noticed how the large bright orange jumpsuit hung off his lean frame, how the low light of the hallway shone harshly on one side of the guy’s face, leaving shadows on the other half that seemed to dance when the guy moved or blinked, how his hair was growing out in small curls that were naturally messier than all hell. It all painted a beautiful picture.

 

The man tilted his head to the side in what seemed to be light contemplation, his eyes flickering between the whites of Deadpool’s mask, analyzing him in silence, and finally he asked, in such a quiet volume that Deadpool could barely make out the words, “Did Harry send you to end me?”

 

Deadpool blinked. More than once. “Who is Harry?”

 

Honestly, even if the employer’s name _had_ been Harry, Deadpool would have no way of knowing. He didn’t deal with the clients, he dealt with Weasel and Weasel alone, he didn’t ask questions other than the standard, ‘Does my target deserve it?’ and Weasel knew better by now than to lie to him because Wade always, _always_ knew. The one time Weasel lied to him, Wade had hunted down the client instead and unalived _him,_ an act that cost Weasel a good two million in revenue and took the following three years to repair in terms of his reputation among frequent buyers. And it wasn’t like he could fire Wade. Deadpool was the biggest name in their pool of mercenaries, the indestructible one, the only one who had never missed a target, the only one who was guaranteed to come back.

 

Bambi blinked back at him. Slowly. Like he couldn’t comprehend that his employer was not in fact the supposed ‘Harry’ in question.

 

Deadpool grinned, feeling a small stab of disappointment when one of the stitches in his mask actually did tear. “Sorry, Sweetcheeks, guess I’m not here on behalf of a secret admirer. If you’re feeling lonely, though, looking for some attention-,” he paused to whistle lowly and watched as a flicker of a blush rose on the inmate’s skin even as his face remained as impassive as ever, “Sign me the fuck up and call me a _Bambite. Bambier? Bambirectioner?_ How do I express that I’m devoted to the bambi lifestyle, dearling?”

 

That blush, much to his displeasure, disappeared quickly and a bit of annoyance graced his pretty’s features.

 

“If you aren’t here to kill me,” Bambi began, “And you went through all the trouble of causing a prison riot-”

 

“And _how_ does dearest know I started a riot exactly?” Wade queried, leaning into the bars of the door that led to his target.

 

Pretty _scoffed_ at him, like the very sight of him was ludicrous, and stated slowly as if speaking to a brand new species of idiot, “The announcement was heard _everywhere_ , genius. In case you didn’t notice that guards vacated our area as well as every other area where you must have disposed of them, since you managed to arrive here without a scratch on you. Given your ridiculous costume, you’re either a killer trying to off someone or a superhero trying to break somebody out.” His voice then dropped to a whisper and Wade leaned closer to listen, “Now I don’t know if you think I’m stupid enough to believe that a man with two swords strapped to his person and several grenades on his belt is some sort of hero, but I’d like to inform you: I wasn’t born yesterday.”

 

Wade took a step back and _laughed,_ he laughed so loudly that there was a sudden pounding from the other cells in that block and inmates were yelling at what they must have presumed were other convicts making noise.

 

He took a second to catch his breath and echoed Yellow with the word, “Beautiful.”

 

He said nothing else, and Bambi grew impatient with him, leaning toward the bars slightly and asking, “Who are you after?”

 

The client had asked for discretion, but at this point discretion was completely out of the window and in the true spirit of his new life motto, Wade decided, “Fuck it. The name’s Thompson. You know him?.”

 

Dark brown eyes widened a fraction before closing as the guy hmm’d in thought, and then came the question. “Flash Thompson?”

 

“Uh, no? Is there more than one Thompson in this shithole? I mean, I guess it _is_ a common name but two in isolation ward? Maybe it’s just not the best last name to keep in general. The guy’s named Eugene, actually.”

 

At first, disappointment plagued the guy’s face like a disease, but as Wade finished speaking, those eyes opened up again and this pretty little thing leaned _all_ up against the bars and yanked Deadpool toward him by the belt over his suit, jostling his grenades and making fear crawl up his spine raw and wild and _foreign._

 

And then… he _smiled._ Wade would spend the next few weeks trying to describe that smile, and though at the moment he couldn’t come up with the right words, the phrase ‘ephemeral, like a sharp dagger before the rain rusted out all of its edges,’ settled somewhere deep in his mind and refused to be forgotten even when he’d spent many, many nights people watching on rooftops, trying to find anything half as mesmerizing to compare it to and failing ever so miserably by the day.

 

Wade became so helplessly distracted by the sight that he didn’t realize the smol dude had used his body as a shield from the cameras, he probably had no idea they weren’t working, and has used his free hand to crush the padlock _in half._

 

He then, carefully slid the door open and stepped aside to let Deadpool in who was still trying to process the fact that his new little crush was a mutant and the state didn’t know about it since he’d taken the extra caution to hide it. “You- you’re-.”

 

His precious little bean didn’t allow him to finish his sentence, just crowded him against the wall, pressed one hand over his mask where his mouth was, and mumbled, “Last door on the left, _Bambite,”_ mockingly into his ear and then swayed away from him, right out the door with another small flash of pure white teeth and the soft spoken words, “Thank you… for everything,” on his way out.

 

Deadpool was _lost._ He hadn’t… he hadn’t even _done_ anything. Sure, he’d caused a riot, but riots happened in prisons all the time. What the hell had he done to earn such a soft and heartfelt thank you from an isolation convict?

 

[We have to leave. We have to do our job and leave. You don’t know what you’ve done. You don’t know what the fuck you’ve done.]

 

“What is your _problem,_ Asswipe? He _liked_ us. We did _good.”_

 

{I saw an angel! _Of that I’m sure!-}_

 

[Stop fucking singing. Stop fucking feeling good about yourself, you fucked up! You. Fucked. Up. This is _serious._ ]

 

Wade ignored White and sang along with Yellow as he reached the end of the hall and painstakingly went about finding the key to the cell before giving up in fury and stabbing the thing open.

 

The blonde stocky guy inside paled when he looked up and saw a strange man in full leather ensemble, and he looked outright nauseous when Deadpool unsheathed one katana. However, his fear soon faded into resignation at the continuous sound of lyrics from Wade’s mouth and he closed his eyes. A stream of tears ran down his face and Wade wondered curiously why he’d received no customary begging or pleading when Eugene said, “Tell them I was sorry. Tell them… tell them I-”

 

Wade quickly lined the katana with his throat and pierced it, the rest of the impromptu speech ending in a crimson mess of gurgling and suffocation as his target’s lungs filled with his own blood.

 

“I’m no one’s messenger boy, Eugene.”

 

The next few moments were awkward as Wade waited for the guy to croak so he could confirm the death, and haphazardly wiped his blade down on the sheets of the bed so that it wouldn’t be such abitch to clean when he got to his new safehouse. Water was _not_ the best at removing bloodstains without some good cleaning products on hand.

 

Getting out of the prison wasn’t particularly difficult.

 

Getting the client to agree to paying the money over the phone when the prison riot had been reported on every news station thus far was tedious, but a well placed threat here and there and boom, would you look at that? _Magically,_ four million had been transferred into Weasel’s account and shortly after, Weasel transferred his half over to him. Such a pleasure doing business with the rich types.

 

What came afterwards though, was what Wade had been looking forward to the moment Bambi eyes got out of his sight. The news the next morning was stuffed to the brim with the number of casualties reported, the search for someone to blame. It all came to a _screeching_ halt when word got out that a convict was missing in the headcount. For about six hours, the public panicked at the idea of a convict on the loose, but when the actual name of the escapee was released, people _broke down._ It wasn’t even the innocents either, no, it was the _criminals,_ the ex-cons that had complete meltdowns. Families of the victims were paranoid, furious, but not afraid. It was the guilty that refused to go out at night. Within the next few weeks crime had dropped by sixty-seven percent and Wade was damn near salivating at the sheer _terror_ that the name Peter Parker, also known as the Angel of Death, caused.

 

Wade knew why White was terrified now. Parker was famous for killing the untouchable, he was the man who tracked down every rapist, murderer, and extortioner that evaded the justice system based on a technicality and eviscerated them. He would follow these people for _months_ gathering evidence, stalking them, hacking their devices, memorizing their schedules, and then he would print copies upon copies of the crime reports, the photos of victims, the contracts that these people had used to scam people out of their livelihoods, all of the evidence a jury would require, and played a dripping red game of executioner. He _destroyed_ people on behalf of those they had hurt, ending their lives and ruining their reputations.

 

His namesake came from his first victim, Norman Osborn. Pictures of the crime scene had been leaked to the public and apparently, when Parker killed the billionaire, he had gone a little unhinged and practically tore the man's chest from his body leaving nothing but a gaping empty cavity to display his ribs and blood soaking the white one-thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets that spread in either direction on the king-sized mattress that made the shape of, well, wings. It was a mere coincidence. But when a rapist got off on a technicality even when three women testified against him, Parker made a similar bloody scene and one of those women claimed to be grateful, so, so grateful that her guardian angel had rid her of that monster. The Parker case was so graphic and nauseating in nature that many people had stood camping for weeks outside of the courts, demanding the death penalty, while others protested on the kid’s behalf as he was performing a public service by defending the community and, at the time of his trial, the kid had just turned sixteen. He had been locked up in that prison for the past three _years_ , and as Wade dug into the kid’s records, he realized that he’d been on his best behavior up until the incident that landed him and Eugene ‘Flash’ Thompson in isolation.

 

If _anyone_ in the world could possibly be insane enough, sufficiently obsessed with a skewed perception of morality, reckless enough to try and _succeed_ at killing Deadpool permanently… it would definitely be Peter Parker, Angel of Death.

  
And, White be _damned,_ Wade couldn’t wait to find out if Bambi would try his luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The question I originally had was: What if PETER was the one that people called the psychopath? What if anyone who saw Spiderman and Deadpool together thought Deadpool was a bad influence, but would be even more horrified if they knew that Wade Wilson is devoted to a mass murderer and defers to no one else? What if. 
> 
> Well, I had a small idea playing in my head, where Deadpool became absolutely obsessed with a convict's smile, and here we are. Enjoy, and please leave a comment as they give me LIFE.


	2. You Shot Me!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deadpool meet Spidey, and honestly? Yellow falls in love really easily.

Ordinarily, if Deadpool decided he was going to look for someone, he would find them without a problem. It may have taken effort on occasion, but no matter how rich, poor, trained, knowledgeable, connected, or protected a person was, Deadpool would find them. Many times he would outsource the search to Weasel, since, admittedly his methods were a lot faster than Wade's.

 

However, if Weasel's array of technology and sources failed to deliver… Wade had to get creative. He would put himself in the person's shoes and figure out exactly what he would do to get away in that situation. It lead him to whoever he was looking for without fail.

 

Until Peter Parker escaped from prison.

 

He had waited with all the patience in the world for the doe eyed Death Angel to find him, and ached in confused disappointment when it seemed the fugitive never even tried.

 

When the search parties died down, Deadpool found himself breaking into the police station, gassing the cops to sleep, and searching all the evidence they had in their ongoing investigation, video feeds from every traffic camera and store camera in a mile radius of the prison, and only one was labelled as important, as it had the blurry image of a brown haired man of the same build and height as Parker, then in loose grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. They had apparently found the jumpsuit in the garbage bin behind a boxing gym about a block away from that particular intersection. Wade pocketed a copy of the photo, thumbing at it later on that day, lost in thought.

 

The cops had no viable leads, according to social media the Aunt had been forced to move to another country during the trial-

 

The Aunt.

 

Wade hastily carded through old articles online to find the name, annoyed when almost every journalist referred to the only living relative of Peter Parker as 'Mrs. Parker.' Eventually, there was one article published after the trial by a psychologist who used Peter's life as an example of Psychopathic behaviors. It claimed there were no domestic triggers that Peter had experienced at home under the roof of the late Ben Parker and his wife May Parker to influence him in a negative light, citing the date of his birth and the date his parents died and explaining that their deaths occurred too early in Peter's development to have caused his criminal inclination. The article said a lot of other things that Wade thought sounded far fetched, but he shrugged it off because he'd gotten what he needed.

 

May Parker.

 

There were a lot of May Parkers, but what Wade needed was just a date of birth. He had Weasel hack the marriage license registry and surely enough, Ben Parker had filed for a marriage license with the then soon-to-be May Parker and the application had her birthday.

 

There were a lot of May Parkers, but not born on the same day, not in the same year, not all born in New York, and not all living in other countries.

 

When Wade searched the name and date of birth, he got a hit for a Canadian hairstylist license. It _could_ have been a coincidence, given that he'd seen she was a nurse in the general hospital back when she lived in New York, but Wade didn't think it was and he grinned to himself. He hadn't been in Canada since the day he walked out on his father, blew up the house, and never looked back. It _would_ be nice to find out if dear old Dad had somehow managed to survive Wade's special brand of molotov cocktail.

 

And it had indeed been nice, to happen upon the old man's grave and spit on it.

 

His mood was dampened, however, by the fact that May had evidently not been in contact with his sweet little death angel. There were no suspicious phone calls, no emails, no shared documents, no mysterious visitors, and eventually Wade felt creepy spying on some poor old lady who was just trying to move on with her life for no reason.

 

Afterwards, Wade even looked up Parker's previous employer and was _pissed_ to find out that the guy had died. Of a heart attack. Two days after the prison riot. And there just so happened to be several saved files on the man's computer about employee's schedules and rate of pay that didn't quite cover living costs, as well as evidence of money laundering from the Daily Bugle.

 

There had been a loose end dancing right in front of Wade and he hadn't pulled it because he'd been too busy chasing after a useless connection.

 

Even when he went searching for old friends of the convict, he realized that they were all either dead or in mental hospitals. Which. Wow. Definitely a red flag but Wade was far beyond the professional abilities of any psychiatric ward so he wasn't turned off. If anything, he was sort of impressed.

 

And angry.

 

Because he wasn’t the only one dying of curiosity.

 

{WHERE THE FUCK IS HE!!!!!}

 

Yellow had become increasingly frustrated with the failed searches, to the point where Wade’s days were filled with apoplectic screeching.

 

“We’ll find him eventually just _shut the fuck up.”_ Wade was growing to feel so completely done with Yellow’s shit.

 

{NO! It’s been _MONTHS! You said that_ LAST WEEK AND WE STILL HAVEN’T GOTTEN ANY CLOSER, STOP LYING!}

 

White, as always, said nothing about the subject, but Wade could physically feel the palpable relief and smug satisfaction radiating from the right side of his brain, and the subsequent sharp spike of absolute terror whenever Wade or Yellow thought of a new way to possibly track their wayward convict down.

 

Wade bristled in agitation. “And I fucking _meant_ it a week ago! It’s not _my fault_ that he’s good at hiding. You should be _pleased_ he’s giving us a challenge instead of being a _whiny little bitch!”_

 

This sent Yellow into a long, pointed tirade that Wade seriously considered blowing his brains out for, just to get some peace and quiet.

 

In the end, he headed to Weasel’s bar, deciding that he desperately needed an outlet for his mounting irritation. Weasel, as always, provided, but he didn’t let Wade go without asking what exactly made him ghost for three months.

 

Wade grinned maniacally under his mask and loudly proclaimed, “AWWW, WEAS! DID YOU MISS ME!? I _knew_ you loved me, you little shit! I would offer to hug you, BUT!” He paused to sniff at the air and lean back away from the bar, swatting a hand in front of his face for dramatic effect, “You smell like an alcoholic, and a good girl needs to keep up a good hygiene, you know? Gotta keep my MILKSHAKE CLEAN FOR THE BOYS IN THE YARD!”

 

When Wade started doing frankly confusingly flexible poses to showcase his assets Weasel cursed him out, but it was worth the laughs from the other mercs in the bar.

 

“What boys? Who’s sniffing about for a rotten avocado?”

 

{Ow. That hurt.}

 

[At least he’s honest.]

 

{Ha! He’s a slimy bastard!}

 

[And a realist.]

 

Yellow started grumbling mutinously and Wade just shrugged. “It’s not that anyone’s sniffing about, exactly. It’s just that I found the one, my only! Say, Weas, do you believe in soulmates?”

 

It was at this point that Wade draped his upper body over the counter with a wistful sigh as Yellow started listing off Peter’s features and just how beautiful they made him while White growled in exasperation. This, in turn, made Deadpool laugh quietly, because White’s adamant disapproval was hilarious. To Weasel however, his laughing was a worrying enough development combined with the sigh to warrant smacking him over the head with a dirty dish rag.

 

Wade sprang up in his seat like a startled cat. “What the _fuck,_ Weasel?”

 

Weasel glared at him. “Who is it?”

 

{It’s _none_ _of his business!_ Petey-pie is _OURS!}_

 

White, on the other hand, took a moment before saying, [Hear him out.]

 

_{NO, WE WON’T-}_

 

Wade snapped, “Why does it matter?”

 

Weasel glared harder, hands gripping the edge of the counter as if he wanted to strangle Deadpool but knew how unwise that would be.

 

“It _matters,”_ he hissed out, “Because the _last_ time you dated someone, he came back _from the future_ to _destroy my bar._ Because the time _before_ that, you married a goddamn _demon_ for six months and she sent no less than _twelve_ demons to kill off all of my targets to try and bankrupt me! _Because, Shithead,_ the _first_ time you dated someone in this city, you lost me _my best hooker_ because she didn’t think it was _‘healthy’_ to stay after shit hit the fan! You-”

 

“Blah, blah, blah! Okay, so the point is that my love life makes your life interesting, cuz, let’s face it Weasel, you’re life would be soooo _boring_ without me-”

 

“My life would be _wonderful-”_

 

“You mean agonizing, Weas, look, we get it if you’re jealous,” Wade put a hand over his heart and forced the most solemn expression he could beneath the mask, “We all know how much you love me, but I’ve told you time and time again that I’m just not interested in doing the naked lap dance-”

 

“I DO NOT WANT TO FUCK YOU, YOU DEFORMED QUESADILLA!”

 

The bar erupted in _peals of laughter_ at the sight of a huffing angry Weasel, and Wade got a free drink from the group around the pool table. Heh. ‘Pool table. A drink that Weasel begrudgingly poured for him, angrily muttering under his breath before placing it in front of Wade.

 

{As if we’d ever let _him_ fuck _us._ } Yellow was indignant about the entire conversation. {He’s greasy as fuck anyway.}

 

White was snickering, the sound echoing in Wade’s head and making him slightly dizzy. White was quickly much less amused, however, when Weasel spoke up again.

 

“What I’m _trying to say_ is that your ‘love’ life _costs me money,_ ” Weasel’s glare intensified once more and Wade bit his lip to keep himself from snorting at how utterly _not_ intimidating it was, “And I would be _appreciative_ if I had fair goddamned warning before the next time your newest toy decides to ruin my day.”

 

Deadpool lifted his mask to knock back his drink, enjoying the small grimace the action brought to Weasel’s face, before smiling softly to himself and saying, “This one’s _special.”_

 

Weasel _paled._ He closed his eyes, muttered a quiet, “Kill me now,” and then questioned, “What do you mean… _special?”_

 

Deadpool’s smile turned into a wide, untamed grin and Weasel’s facial expression grew more and more despondent as he replied, “You remember the prison riot, lots of dead people, few months back?”

 

As Weasel stared at him in dawning horror and the rest of the bar went silent, people listening with no trace of subtlety now that the prison riot had been mentioned, Deadpool pretended to be looking at his nails even though he was wearing gloves and very obviously couldn’t see his nails.

 

“No,” Weasel said. At first he said it in a raspy whisper, but then his features morphed into tense lines of raw, unfiltered _stress_ and he shouted, “No! Fucking _hell,_ Wade! Are you _serious?_ He’ll kill off _everyone here, you stupid sack of shit!”_

 

Yellow was outright _cackling_ and Wade started giggling madly as people in the bar froze and even stopped drinking. People _always_ drank at Sister Margaret’s. If people stopped downing booze, there was something _wrong_ and this was exacerbated by the way Deadpool giggled in the absolute silence of twenty tense, dangerous people.

 

When mutters of disbelieving, ‘What the hell’s’ and ‘He’s joking, there’s no way he’s for real’ started going around the bar, Wade stopped laughing and-- mask still pulled halfway up his face, smiled wide enough to show off every single one of his pearly white sharp teeth-- simply said, “I know.”

 

He could have been merely saying he knew he was stupid, but the myriad of weapons pointed in his direction made it _unquestionably clear_ that everyone in the bar knew _exactly_ what he meant, that he didn’t really care whether any of them lived or died, and none of them were pleased with the newfound knowledge.

 

Weasel shook a bit under the focus of so many guns, and he shuffled a bit to the side so that if Deadpool suddenly became a practice target, he wouldn’t be in the line of fire. Still, he reprimanded the red clad mercenary, growling out to, “Cut the shit, Wade. Tell me, _please_ tell me you don’t know where the Death Angel is.”

 

Wade heard several clicks, indicating more than one person had taken the safety off on their guns, and he pouted mournfully, feigning obliviousness as he jumped up and snatched a full bottle from far behind the counter and sat back, guzzling half of it down and sighing dejectedly.

 

“ _No._ Not because I haven’t _tried,_ either. My baby’s just so good I can’t find him and-”

 

Weasel interrupted him, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Wait. You told me to look for the kid because there’s a reward out for him, dead or alive. You _lied_ to me! I spent _weeks_ looking for him-”

 

Wade and Yellow echoed each other with angry interruptions.

 

“And you _failed,_ thanks for nothing-”

 

{Oh and how _useful that was,_ telling us _nothing_ about where he might be-}

 

[Thank fuck he didn’t find anything.]

 

“Shut up!” Wade snapped to his right.

 

{Fuck off!} Yellow whined.

 

Weasel, cleaning a glass-- still slightly off to the side-- protested with, “I looked _everywhere-”_

 

Wade snorted. “Obviously.”

 

{Lies! Liar, liar, pants on fire! Lie again, WE’LL CRUSH YOUR WINDPIPE.}

 

[Ungrateful shits.]

 

“I would serve you poison if I thought it would make any difference, you know that, right?” Weasel asked, face absolutely exhausted.

 

“I know.”

 

“You’re ruining my life, one relationship at a time.”

 

“I know.”

 

Annoyance spread over Weasel’s eyebrows like a flame. “You’re a horrible human being and I hope someone figures out how to kill you one of these days.”

 

Wade let a shit eating grin spread across his face and asked, “And just who do you think might be able to figure that out, Weas?”

 

Weasel opened his mouth to offer a very, ahem, _creative_ suggestion, but Wade spoke up again first.

 

“Do you think, by any chance, and I’m just throwing out ideas here, but _maaaybe,_ that someone might be named… let’s see, Peter Parker?”

 

Two guns went off, at least seven people rushed at Deadpool in a rage, people who bumped into each other started throwing empty glasses at one another, a few mercenaries ghosted the scene before anyone was out for blood, and Weasel ducked down behind the counter, screaming out obscenities and cursing Wade’s name because it was the only comfort he had since he couldn’t call the cops on his own illegal business and no insurance company would cover his shitty little bar.

 

{ _Oh yeaaaaaaaah! It’s time to party!}_

 

[Again? Fucking again?]

 

{Here we go, let’s get this party started!}

 

[No.]

 

_{Iiiiiiiiiiii’m coming down, so we better get this party started!}_

 

[Ugh.]

 

Wade was busy dodging bullets-- mostly because he didn’t want to go to the effort of finding them and pulling them out later on-- and stabbing at any body part he could reach with his katanas. He didn’t dismember without provocation, but all’s fair when people fuck with you first and he wasn’t going to be lenient tonight.

 

When it all died down several known criminals were forced to call ambulances if they wanted to save their limbs. After all, criminal fact #37 was:

 

_{A severed limb can only be reattached within the first six to twelve hours of dismemberment!!}_

 

[Other, smaller, parts of the human body can last longer, but the cartilage in a limb will deteriorate too quickly to remain viable, even under freezing conditions.]

 

Yellow was always excited to recite criminal rules.

 

White just seemed to like morbid facts surrounding each rule.

 

Wade just found it amusing how they knew all the rules and followed exactly zero of those rules because they weren’t applicable to someone who could bounce back from being decapitated like nothing.

 

He left the bar with no apologies. It wasn’t _his_ fault everyone there was so sensitive. They knew they’d fucked up, and Wade didn’t take innocents, and they knew that given the choice, Parker would kill them before ever setting his sights on Deadpool.

 

And halfway into his walk home, Deadpool stopped, mid street, to contemplate that.

 

Presumably, the moment his pretty little psycho got out of prison, he hunted down J.J. Jameson and made the guy’s death look like a heart attack whilst still managing to ruin the guy’s reputation.

 

If there was anything that Wade knew for sure, it was that once a killer tasted murder and really savored it, there was no going back to a normal, clean, cookie-cutter lifestyle. Parker was free, and this meant he _had_ to be out there, hunting _someone_ down. Was Deadpool disappointed it wasn’t him? Yes. Was he simultaneously pleased that this meant Bambi most likely didn’t _want_ to kill him? Also yes. Because, inside that prison, the famed Angel of Death had had ample opportunity to attack him and hadn’t done so, had even allowed him to proceed as planned, trusting him implicitly for a moment. Wade had no doubt that Peter had spent hours researching him, assuring himself that he had made the right choice in letting Deadpool live. The thought made him warm and fuzzy inside.

 

{Like a christmas tree!}

 

Right. Like a christmas tree. Though, they felt more prickly than they did fuzzy but whatever. Close enough.

 

[This is ridiculous. He’s not thinking of you. You should be _praying_ that he’ll _never_ be thinking of you. The fact that he hasn’t been looking for you is a gift you’re _taking for granted._ ]

 

White was _saaalty._ Getting saltier by the hour about their new obsession. In fact, White had grown quieter and quieter as their investigation spiralled a tad bit out of control, angry at their insistence on finding a serial murderer, but Wade didn’t let it get to him. He was a man on a mission!

 

A mission that was rudely interrupted by the sound of gunshots about a block away, sounding suspiciously close to Wade’s favorite taco shop.

 

{No! _SAVE THE TACOS! TACOS! TACOS! TACOS!}_

 

[Dear fuck, it’s just food! You can get tacos at literally a hundred other locations in New York, stop whining-]

 

{THEY WOULDN’T BE THE SAME-}

 

Wade was already damn near _flying_ down the block toward the small little mexican restaurant, katanas in hand, barging through the door and _immediately_ spotting an armed man, the bleeding restaurant host, Teresa, and another guy in an all black mask rifling through the cash register.

 

Before anyone could even speak and ask who the _hell_ Deadpool was, Wade had already thrown one katana hard enough to pierce one of the robbers through his left eye, and as that guy went down, he ran at full speed toward the second guy behind the register, whose eyes were wide and scared shitless as the blade came at him.

 

One _second_ before the blade make contact, it was _yanked_ out of his grip and Wade turned angrily to fight off what he thought would be a third crook he’d failed to locate earlier, only to see _no one_ behind him and his prized katana hanging by a thin strand of white that led to… the ceiling.

 

The guy at the register was full on _ugly crying,_ apologizing and begging for his life, Wade noticed that Teresa now had some weird white gunk clogging up the wound on her side as she shakily applied pressure to the area, and somewhere beyond the shadows of the wooden ceiling and support beams, Wade could see the shadow of a person, crouching down and just… watching the scene unfold. Wade’s katana swayed slightly in the wind since Wade had left the door open upon his entry. He reached for it, and it was promptly snatched upward toward the shadowed figure.

 

{Oh _hell_ no.}

 

[Fuck. No one is _this_ stupid.]

 

Wade paused, turned to the robber still shaking at the register and asked, “You saw that too, right? It’s not just me?”

 

The useless guy just gaped at him, wheezing without words.

 

Wade briefly wondered if he was hallucinating, saw the glint of metal of his katana behind one of the high support beams, and decided that, no, he was not hallucinating, and yes, he was going to kill this fucker.

 

Said fucker shot out a string of white crap that bound up the robber, _threw_ himself off the support beam and toward the guy behind the counter, and proceeded to reach the landline phone with Deadpool’s katana twirling between his fingers, and _make a phone call as Deadpool stared him down murderously._  

 

{Oooooh, I LIKE HIM.}

 

[Kill him.]

 

{He’s wearing red! Twinsies! Did you see how _he swung down like a gymnast? How flexible do you think-}_  

 

[KILL HIM, HE THINKS WE’RE NOT A THREAT.]

 

White, evidently letting out his prolonged frustrations, was egging Wade on, and Wade was _happy to oblige._ In one swift movement, Wade was firing a gun in the guy’s direction, too angry to hear the, “9-1-1. What’s your emergency?” over the phone.

 

The guy in spandex moved, dodging every shot Deadpool took at him, and Wade would have begrudgingly paid his respects if the guy didn’t _still twirl his katana with one hand._

 

In a blind rage, Wade yanked his other katana from the corpse’s skull and threw it as _hard as he possibly could_ at the remaining bound robber all the while firing shots at the red and blue gymnast dude. Gymnast dude, too preoccupied dodging bullets, and also strategically forced to move halfway across the room, couldn’t stop the blade in time, and he became _furious_ , outright tackling Wade in a half run half swing out the door and trying to punch him in the middle of the street.

 

“He was already _restrained_ and you killed him in front of a _witness! There are cameras!”_ The guy was… reprimanding him? “What is _wrong with you? Why would you do that-”_

 

Wade took this angry ranting moment as the opportunity he needed to buck the would be hero? off of him and snatch his katana back in the process.

 

The guy fell on his ass and Wade moved to make a clean cut while the guy was at a disadvantage, but Mr. High-and-Mighty moved before he could lose a leg, lifting said limb as he did a full on _hand stand_ and _kicked Deadpool in the face._

 

_{I think I’m in love.}_

 

[That. Is. It. END. HIM. **NOW!** ]

 

A tooth came loose in his mouth, and Wade slowly and deliberately lifted his mask slightly to spit the offending little bone and a wad of blood in his new enemy’s direction. He could already feel his canine tooth growing back, and he smiled just wide enough to show off the process so that this fucking _amateur_ could see just what he was getting into.

 

To his complete shock, the stranger merely angled his head to the side in contemplation, his chin dropped beneath the strange webbed mask as if he was planning to speak, and then his words were drowned out by sirens.

 

Instantly, both of them vaulted themselves in the opposite direction of the sound.

 

Where Wade relied heavily on parkour and the knowledge that his broken bones would repair themselves too quickly to slow him down, spandex dude swung himself across rooftops and between buildings like the air catered to his every whim.

 

And yet, Wade knew the laws of physics and smiled to himself. Once that guy was in the air, it would become significantly harder to dodge bullets because bullets flew faster than he could let out some new white crap to change his direction. In short, the guy was more vulnerable in the air than he was on the ground and Wade was ready to take advantage of that.

 

Once they were far enough from the sound of sirens and Wade thought spandex fucker no longer notice him, he took aim, fired, at the spot on the air he _knew_ this guy was headed toward, and though he saw the stranger flinch seconds before the bullet made impact, it still hit his right shoulder, and just as Wade predicted, he started falling, catching himself at the last second with a string from his left arm that _harshly_ rammed his body into the wall of the nearest building and wrenched his left arm out of his socket.

 

Wade grinned victoriously.

 

He ran over to the guy, and found him leaning _heavily_ against a wall, just _staring_ down at his bleeding arm.

 

Wade cleared his throat, cheerfully now that he’d finally expelled some of his pent up irritation, and said, “Heya, red-white-and blue! Nice to meet you!” and stuck out a hand for the guy to shake, snickering to himself because he realized he couldn’t move either of those arms at the moment.

 

A low yet vaguely innocent sounding voice spoke up, more numb than anything Wade had ever heard, “You shot me.”

 

It sounded so nonchalant, so uninterested in the wound that Deadpool physically took a step back and wondered if this guy was as suicidal as he was. “Umm- Well, you took my weapon, so in all fairness-”

 

“You shot me,” he repeated, not letting Wade speak, almost seemingly unaware that he spoke in the first place. Then his stance grew less tense and he bent over a fraction, _laughing_ and freaking Wade _the fuck out,_ before saying, “Ha, excuse me, what the fuck.”

 

Unlike Deadpool’s mask, the stranger’s mask didn’t naturally contort with his features, but Wade could _feel_ the disbelief pouring off this guy in waves and couldn’t help asking, quite awkwardly, “Uh… have you never been shot before?”

 

 _“No!”_ His red, webbed mask stretched a bit in a way that could either be a smile or a scowl and Wade had a pretty good idea which one it was. “I’m Spiderman, I literally have a reputation for _not getting-”_

 

{Oh my god.}

 

[Fucking hell! You attract every psycho out there! We’re gonna get shoved back into the ice box because of your shit decisions!]

 

“Lies! Spiderman was only around for, like, a year, and he fucked off for the last three years, probably died or something and I didn’t even get _to meet him_ . I was sad about it for _months,_  I even looked for the dude, but it’s kinda hard to find people with secret identities, especially when you don’t even know who’s after them in the first place and-”

 

“Oh my God, no,” The Spiderman imposter cut him off, his body sagging against the wall that was now dripping blood. “No, I’m not arguing with _Deadpool_ about whether or not I’m me. I’m a grown man, I’m not doing this.”

 

{How old is grown? Like, does he mean _grown_ grown, or the teenage _angst_ grown?}

 

[Do. not. ask. It is not your concern.]

 

“HMMM,” Deadpool began, leaning in closer and watching as the wannabe hero tensed under his scrutiny. Wade then stepped a little to the side, squatted down, and quickly peaked behind fake Spidey’s legs to get a good look at his ass.

 

“What are you _doing!?”_ yelled the newly discovered real Spidey.

 

“You ARE SPIDEY! How old is,” he paused to use air quotes, “‘grown,’ baby boy, cuz let me tell you, that ass has been a part of the spank bank since we _first_ saw glorious photos of that round, _juicy, perky-”_

 

“Enough! Stop!” Spidey flopped one useless dislocated arm in his direction and Wade just about died laughing.

 

{He’s so _cuuuute, can we keep him?_ I want to keep him! We _need_ to keep him!}

 

[No. **No.** Leave right now when he has no mode of transportation and can’t follow us! Or better yet! **END HIM!** ]

 

{Please, please, please, please-}

 

[You’re weak! You’re both so fucking **spineless-** ]

 

Wade, still in squat mode, leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and grinned up at Spidey. “Sooo, Spidey… come here often?”

 

After a brief moment of incredulous silence Spiderman looked down at him and asked, stunned beyond belief, “Are you- are you… _hitting on me?_ Is this real? What the _hell.”_

 

Wade pouted for the second time in one day. “Well, you don’t have to be so _mean._ You could just say _no.”_

 

“Mean!? What? You- you _shot me!”_

 

Oh, the confusion was so cute on the small little spider.

 

Wade shrugged from his position and continued looking up at Spidey. “Yeah, because I thought you were an asshole, which, you _were,_ but you’re also Spidey! So it’s cool, no harm no foul! Anyway, wanna spend the night at my place? I can take the bullet out; trust me, I’ve had a lot of practice, wrap you up in the finest bandages this coast of the U.S. of A and worship your body to distract you!”

 

He finished his sentence with a beaming smile and Spidey went silent for a long time.

 

Yellow waited for an answer with bated breath.

 

White was cursing Wade six ways to Sunday, going _off_ about how one psycho wasn’t enough for them, and how much shit they would be in if the other mercs found out about this, and a series of other things Wade couldn’t give one big shit about.

 

Spidey thudded his head twice against the brick wall, breathed in audible frustration, before turning his head back down to stare at Wade and seemingly deflating. He soon said, “I don’t particularly want a distraction, so… if you don’t mind scratching that one off the list, I fully plan on judging you by the quality of your first aid kit.”

 

{Holy shit. YES! FIST PUMP!}

 

[He’s lost his mind.]

 

Wade gaped at him, mouth open for precious few seconds before it snapped shut and he declared, “Wow. White was right. You’re insane.”

 

Spidey stiffened defensively, stance ready to bolt even through his exhaustion, and he damn near fell as he tried to move on shaky legs from all the blood loss. Wade caught him, lifted the little webbed wonder _effortlessly_ , and started muttering random attempts at conversation to keep the hero awake as he lead them to Wade’s apartment. Spiderman struggled in his arms at first, but then seemed to realize he really had no other options unless he wanted to die on the city pavement and fall victim to the rats of New York City.

 

He hadn’t expected to ever see Spiderman in New York again. In fact, he’d never thought even once he would run into him during a robbery.

 

Wade also wondered just what Spiderman would think if he knew Deadpool was kind of sort of obsessed with a serial killer, given that he seemed to have a problem with Deadpool killing criminals.

 

And… he wondered what Peter would think of Deadpool shooting Spiderman and taking him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Back at it again! I'm really happy I managed to finish this chapter early, so, as a treat, I'll be working on releasing the third chapter next week ANYWAY ahead of schedule because I cleared enough time to work on it! Yay! Let me know what you guys think, I'm on a diet and starving and COMMENTS. FEED. ME. 
> 
> All the love! Enjoy!


	3. Spiderman Never Would.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deadpool goes on a hunt for his katana. 
> 
> Someone he didn't expect to see shows up.

Honestly? The fact that Spiderman was barely holding onto consciousness as Wade crossed the threshold into his apartment was freaking _impressive_ . He had seen _many_ people keel over and faint after a little bit of _harmless_ metal in their skin and seeing this precious little Spider cling to lucidity was adorable.

 

"Hey, Spidey, we just crossed the threshold and I'm carrying you _bridal style._ Isn't it _romantic?_ "

 

{Yes.}

 

[No. This is the farthest thing from romantic in the history of the world. You shot him. Didn't he used to be all buddy buddy with the Avengers? Jesus. We're going to get _blown up_ because you can't _control yourself._ ]

 

Spidey grunted quietly, his head lolling backward a bit against Wade's arm. Shit.

 

{Has he _really_ never been shot before. Gasp! Did we take his bullet virginity!?}

 

[I'm surrounded by idiots.]

 

Deadpool rushed in with a newfound sense of urgency and kicked his bathroom door open, settling Spidey on the floor, his back lined up with the edge of the grimy bathtub. He would have placed the guy on the toilet, but he wasn't _at all_ confident in Spiderman's ability to keep himself upright without cracking his head open on a bathroom floor tile.

 

There was a quiet groan before the silence, and Wade busied himself with finding the tweezers in his medical supplies.

 

He knew the bullet got lodged in Spidey's shoulder, given the lack of an exit wound, and he almost felt sorry for the kid. His first time getting shot and he had to get shot by _Deadpool_ only for the bullet to _stay inside._ That sounded like the worst luck ever and it was about to _feel_ like it too.

 

Deadpool grimaced, knowing this would be the worst part, and he dug into the wound with the metal.

 

The scream Spidey let out was practically _inhuman,_ and by a well timed stroke of luck, Wade managed to get a hold on the bullet and yank it out, just as Spidey took hold of his wrist in a _death grip_ and snapped the bones of the forearm _cleanly._

 

Wade _shrieked_ at the unexpected pain.

 

{Wow.} Yellow breathed, he sounded _awestruck._

 

[You're _still_ not going to kill him, are you?] White sounded _defeated._ Like he was a balding man ready to tear out the last three strands of hair he had just to preserve his dignity.

 

Wade was just about ready to go on a _rant_ about biting the hand that feeds you when he realized that Spidey had legitimately just become lucid to snap his forearm bones and then proceeded to pass out against his bathtub. Feisty.

 

Wade kept his good hand over the open wound, keeping pressure to cut off the bleeding until his right arm healed so he could dress the wound _properly._ Who breaks the arm of someone trying to provide them medical attention? Wade was _offended._

 

And oddly charmed. He felt his bones snapping back together, heard the satisfying _crack_ of the effect, and marveled at the realization that Spidey was strong enough to overcome a massive amount of blood loss for the split second it took to exert the amount of pressure meant for breaking bones.

 

{He's perfect} Yellow remarked, voice gentle.

 

White _snorted._ [You said that about _Parker._ ]

 

Yellow 'hmmph'd defensively and replied, {And I _stand by that statement,_ asshole!}

 

Wade smiled to himself. So he had a mutant strength kink, who could blame him?

 

He focused primarily on disinfecting and stitching up the Spider before him and then on wrapping the wound up as tightly as he could to make sure the stitches wouldn't get pulled on accident. Did he believe Spiderman would come back to him for follow up treatment? No. Was he going to provide the best care he could anyway? Yes. Deadpool was a _gentleman_ , thank you very much.

 

[I think other people would _strongly_ disagree.]

 

Yellow and Wade bristled indignantly and snapped:

 

“So fucking what?”

 

{And that matters _because…?}_

 

Wade grinned and White grumbled something about heathens in the corner of his mind.

 

He also realized that he needed to cut the bandages because Spidey’s shoulder didn’t require the entire set and he was completely prepared to reach up for his left katana and make a clean, _efficient_ cut when-

 

His fingers grasped at empty air and the hollow hole of the sheath on his left shoulder.

 

{Where. Is. It.} Yellow was _instantly_ seething. He was the one that originally suggested they steal those swords from a drug dealer’s house after a particularly _nasty_ hit, and if they got out of his immediate vicinity, Yellow became _insufferable._ _{Where the fuck is it-}_

 

Wade quickly checked the handle of his right katana, taking it out and slicing the bandage end in the blink of an eye, finishing his treatment in tense, calculated movements.

 

[It’s just a knife! Holy fuck, it’s not that _serious._ ]

 

Wade’s teeth ground together so hard, he felt a molar crack in half and the ache as the split began closing gave him something to focus on through Yellow’s haze of fury.

 

And yet, Wade found himself saying, “Shut up, White,” in a quiet _furious_ mutter.

 

He may not have made the decision to steal the weapons himself, but they were _his_ and he’d fought with them for _years_ and they were absolutely fucking _not_ ‘just knives.’

 

[Fine! Whatever! Take it out on _me_ for being the only one with some _common sense-_ ]

 

{GO GET IT BACK RIGHT _NOW!!!}_ Yellow’s voice was getting so deafening that Wade wouldn’t have heard sirens if they passed right by his building. Hell, someone could have knocked down his door and Wade would be none the wiser.

 

What he did know, was that he couldn’t just leave Spidey with a dislocated shoulder in a strange apartment that he likely wouldn’t remember entering. He picked the small hero back up into his arms with soft, gentle maneuvers, walked over to his old beat up couch that had more thanit’s fair share of stab wounds from Wade’s bad days, and he turned the hero a bit to the side. In one swift, harsh movement, Wade _shoved_ the upper part of Spidey’s arm back into place, punching the shoulder at the angle he knew would hurt most but would work one hundred percent of the time, and while Spidey _did_ whine and then proceed to  _growl_ in agitation in his sleep, the webhead failed to move a muscle. He didn’t even wake up, though his breathing grew less even. His body remained limp on the couch in exhaustion, and still, with how quickly Wade had succeeded in stopping the bleeding, he realized that the super had to have a small healing factor of his own and it wouldn’t be long before he woke up.

 

Deadpool might have been more gentle, but he didn’t have the time to be and frankly, even if Spidey was positively _lovely_ to look at, Deadpool didn’t know him and if even Yellow had other priorities, Wade wasn’t going to coddle a grown man who spent his nights under a superhero’s moniker.

 

He left a small note on Spidey’s pale arm in red sharpie, explaining that this was Deadpool’s apartment, and that he was welcome to bleed on his couch anytime, but that Wade had something uber-mega-important to take care of and would be back later. He left Spidey’s blood stained shirt on the floor beside the couch and, now that he thought about it, he really needed to buy a coffee table or something. It was cool to live in a bad neighborhood, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have nice things. No one in their right mind would _ever_ steal from him.

 

White sighed in irritation. [You’re going to get us arrested.]

 

Wade shrugged.

 

Yellow snarled. {I’d like to see them _try._ }

 

[I don’t want to spend another three weeks in the icebox. It’s cold as fuck.]

 

{We would get out _anyway-_ }

 

[I DON’T _CARE_ IF WE WOULD GET OUT, I DON’T WANT TO BE THERE _AT ALL_.]

 

“Can you guys shut the fuck up? I’m _trying_ to find the taco place.”

 

[Don’t _bother-_ ]

 

{Follow the sound of sirens-}

 

And while there were no sounds to indicate sirens were going off, Wade did see a myriad of red and blue lights a few blocks into the inner city and he grinned widely, all teeth displayed beneath his mask in a smile so wide that even beneath the leather Wade knew it would be visible.

 

He played with the hilt of his right katana, and decided-- as he approached the scene and cops turned and pointed their guns at him-- that he wasn’t going to use it. He had forgotten one tonight in all the excitement of chasing after someone who had interfered with his fight, and that was _not going to happen again._ He couldn’t _believe_ he had been that careless.

 

White was complaining about the fact that they were going to have to dig out bullets later if Wade kept approaching.

 

One of the policemen yelled out, “Stop where you are and put your hands in the air!”

 

Wade laughed, put his hands as high in the air as he could, giggling at how the sight of him made several cops tense up in fear, and _kept walking toward them._

 

“Stop! Remove your weapons!”

 

“Why, officer!” Deadpool protested, his hands still high in the air, head tilted to the right at an unnatural angle that made everyone in the vicinity uneasy about the conversation. “You _JUST said_ that I need to put _my hands in the air!”_

 

“Do you think this is funny? Remove your weapons, get on the ground, and put your hands behind your head! Now!”

 

{Yes!}

 

[Hell _no._ ]

 

Deadpool took a second to watch the guy yelling at him, the bags under the guy’s eyes, the coffee stained teeth, the trembling hands that gave away the fact that he knew exactly who Deadpool was and _still_ tried to keep up a brave front. Wade chuckled.

 

“Funny? _Of course not!”_ he replied, popping his hips out obscenely with each step he took forward, hands coming down to rest over his hip bones, enjoying the way dread crept onto the police force’s faces. “I think it’s _hilarious,”_ he confessed.

 

It seemed that was all that needed to be said, because one moment they were dreading him, and the next someone decided it was a _good idea_ to shoot at him. What a noob. That one shot lodged itself into his chest and Wade closed his eyes, the world froze over for half a second, he breathed in, and then he was _running_ , guns drawn, backhanding his would be attackers so violently that while they might not die, they would very likely get a concussion and Wade was _living for the violence._

 

_{HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST SHOT! WHY DON’T YOU HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST SHOT!}_

 

[Hurry up! We have to _leave._ Stop fucking around!]

 

He got shot at least five times, but three bullets went clean through, muscles regenerating as quickly as they were torn apart, and the two that lodged themselves in his jaw and lower abdomen were going to _suck,_ but the chaos made it so, _so_ hard to care.

 

There were people inside. Wade didn’t care that cops were pouring in through the sole entrance to the restaurant after him. There was a photographer, poor girl, shakily taking pictures of the bodies and Wade was saddened to realize that Teresa had in fact died in spite of the webbed clot on her wound.

 

Still, he had a _weapon to find_ and they were _irrelevant._

 

[Get behind the counter and fucking run!]

 

The barrage of bullets ringing from behind him halted at the realization that Deadpool was now in a room with other people that could be caught in the crossfire and no one wanted to be responsible for the death of one of their own.

 

There were demands for him to come out, announcements about him ‘being surrounded’ and Deadpool giggled all the while, giving a little twirl and bow under all the attention before he sauntered over behind the counter and found that his _lovely steel katana_ was still there, buried in the neck of the ugly crier, where it had severed the highest disc in his spine, severing all neurological control over the guy’s muscles as he bled out. Even if the guy had survived the blood loss, he would have drowned in his own fluids, or been paralyzed for the rest of his life. It was sweet an ambulance hadn’t managed to arrive on time. Wade grabbed the handle of his beauty and slammed his boot of the corpses head to keep it from coming off with his blade as he pulled it out.

 

Yellow’s relief was so intense that for a hot second Wade felt like he was high, then it faded and the sound of helicopters grew loud and the walls started _vibrating._ All he could hear was White yelling, [THEY’RE COMING. GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT-]

 

{What? Who! We can take anyone-}

 

[RUN, FUCKING SHIT.]

 

Wade ran into the bathroom, utterly unsurprised by the sound of something _heavy_ crashing through the ceiling behind him. If Teresa was dead, there was no salvaging this little taco restaurant and-- ignoring Yellow’s desperate denial-- Deadpool grabbed a grenade from his belt, hoped that anyone with any sense had thought to get the hell out, and pulled the ring, tossing his small bomb straight out the bathroom door and over the counter into the kitchen area where he knew the deep fryers full of cooking oil were.

 

Breaking out into a _mad_ run toward the exit he grabbed the stupid photographer girl who had frozen in fear, and bolted out the front door toward gunfire, just as the building went _up in flames._

 

_{I’ve always liked to play with fire!}_

 

Cops were ducking behind their cars, people closer to the blast were caught in the flames and _rolling on the ground_ to put themselves out. There were screams, several patrol cars drove away in a panic, Wade heard the phrase, ‘All available units’ screamed into radios more times than he thought necessary, the sound of ambulances got louder in the distance, and Wade kept running amidst the frenzy of injured people who watched as the fire climbed high enough to light one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicopters above the building. The thing went in frantic circles as the pilot freaked out and eventually it crashed into the middle of the intersections, fire still blazing.

 

[Weasel’s gonna get a visit from Captain America again.]

 

{OMG! Do you think he’ll give us an _autograph this time?_ This is so _exciting!}_

 

[No.]

 

{But last time he said- _oh my gosh it’s so pretty._ }

 

Yellow was _prone_ to getting distracted and fire was always the way to go. The helicopter exploded and Yellow started _cackling_ with the knowledge that more assholes from S.H.I.E.L.D. bit the dust.

 

This amusement was short lived, because it had not been the only helicopter trained on him and now the other inhabitants of the remaining two choppers were _pissed._

 

It became a game of sorts, they would shoot at him and Wade rould throw himself from balcony to balcony knowing that they couldn’t shoot at civilian apartments for fear of unaliving an innocent. For how big and bad they made themselves come off, it was obvious they had regulations and Wade almost missed the days when things were secretly run by Hydra. He had never feared them, he’d destroyed worse organizations and he knew some divisions were likely still out there. The idea made him _hungry_.

 

But he digressed.

 

{Why don’t they fuck _offfffff!}_

 

Impatient as always.

 

[Whatever you do, don’t handle it like last time, I don’t fancy becoming a smear on the cement again.]

 

{Heh. ‘Fancy.’}

 

Wade rolled his eyes.

 

He paused in his run when he realized there was only one string of bullets chasing after him left, and he quickly ducked out of the way and rushed up a fire escape to a rooftop to see what the _hell_ was happening. Enemies don’t just _disappear._

 

About five blocks back, Wade saw something that confused him so much he stopped moving and felt the bullets catch his thigh before he realized the other helicopter had come after him.

 

Instantly, he pulled out a flask of whiskey he’d taken to carrying in his front pouch, removed the top, flung it at the chopper and gave them a thumb’s up sign as he threw his second grenade of the night right after. There was a second where he heard the subtle _clinks_ of his objects falling inside their open helicopter, and then the firework show began.

 

{Suck on it, bitches! Oh yeah! _That’s right! Who’s your daddy!?}_

 

[Disgusting. And it’s definitely not you.]

 

{Is too-}

 

[That’s child abuse-]

 

{No! It’s homicide!}

 

[Same fucking _difference-_ ]

 

The moment Deadpool was sure there were no survivors, he turned back to the spectacle a few blocks away, and saw that some guy who was _definitely_ not a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. had managed to find a way onto their helicopter. Earlier, the guy had been standing on the side of the thing in loose clothes, without any indication that he was afraid of falling to his death with one misstep.

 

They hadn’t been close enough for Wade to see who it was, and he’d been _a little busy_ avoiding his own problem, but now that the vehicle was maybe two blocks away and the guy looked up at Deadpool and smiled while he _snapped the pilot’s neck,_ Deadpool felt his heart _racing._

 

{It’s him. Oh my god, it’s him. He killed for us! He killed for us, he _killed for us-}_

 

[No fucking way. That- No. They probably got in his way, there’s… There’s _no chance-_ ]

 

There had been more than one person in that helicopter and his _beautiful_ murderer took control of piloting the vehicle and made it go in an artful arc that caused two corpses to drop from forty feet in the air. He looked a bit pale, probably from being in hiding, but Wade would know that smile _anywhere._ He jumped over toward the edge of the wide rooftop he had chosen and waved one arm in a small sign of invitation.

 

{Please land, please land, please land-}

 

[No, no, no, fuck off, leave, leave, just leave-]

 

That smiled remained, so bright, so sharp, so fucking criminally perfect, and then-

 

{He- did he- he just-}

 

[That’s it. That’s fucking it. It’s time to _leave_ New York. Everything here is _insane-_ ]

 

 _{We’re_ insane!} Yellow argued.

 

[Obviously not as fucked in the head as the people here! What the _fuck-_ ]

 

Peter Parker had winked at him and grinned widely at his dropped jaw, lifting one dripping red hand to put his index finger in front of his pretty pink lips in a ‘keep this quiet’ motion.

 

Wade forgot how to breathe as his invitation was rejected and his psycho flew off with a helicopter that literally said ‘Property of S.H.I.E.L.D.’

 

{That… was so fucking hot.} His voice sounded _hoarse._

 

[That was a threat!] White countered, audible panic in his claim.

 

{How the hell did you get ‘threat’ from _sweet sexy_ _murderscapades?_ }

 

[He was telling us to keep quiet! He showed up out of nowhere! Are you fucking _thick?_ ] White sounded like he was on the verge of blowing up and he did not disappoint with the conclusion, [HE’S BEEN WATCHING US, YOU FUCKING IDIOTS!]

 

Yellow began _squealing_ at the ‘good’ news and Wade felt a genuine smug smile breaking out on his face, much to White’s chagrin.

 

While White continued on his ballistic rant, Wade sat on the ledge of the building, swinging his legs lightly and staring down at the pieces left behind of his own destroyed chopper.

 

He decided he had enough time to take a small dagger from his boot and dig out the bullets from his leg, abdomen, and jaw. It was a fucking annoying process that he had to bite down on his glove for, but he managed and watched in detached amusement as his skin knitted itself back together and grew clear and soft for about two seconds before the cancer resurfaced with angry sores of vengeance. Wade laughed lightly, his mood too delighted to feel anything at the sight.

 

He wondered, briefly, if Parker would be disgusted by his skin and then burst into a fit of giggles when he remembered that this was a guy who literally _tore through the bones in people’s chests and smiled while snapping a guy’s neck._

 

Would he care?

 

{He… he probably _wouldn’t…_ } Never had Yellow sounded quite as stunned and entranced as he did at that moment and Wade let himself fall down ten stories, grimacing at the snap of his bones yet still feeling pleased as he waited for the couple minutes it took to piece himself back together to pass.

 

When he regained his mobility with a minimal amount of pain, he set off back in the direction where he’d seen the bodies drop. Even if someone called them in and reported it to the police, all available units were at the restaurant and Wade knew it would take them a while to respond to the scene, so he went to get a glimpse at his smol cute psycho’s work and…

 

{He’s amazing. He’s… he’s literally everything.}

 

White, in contrast, sounded _terrified._ [He went to unnecessary extremes and the _only_ reason he hasn’t come after us is because he doesn’t know how to kill us yet. Do you think he just _happened_ to be on a S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicle for no fucking reason!? He’s stalking us, or stalking them to find a way to kill us for good! You’re so fucking blind-]

 

Wade growled quietly, “So fucking _what?_ Since when do you have a problem with dying, _White?”_

 

White didn’t reply and Wade wondered what that meant, but was too intent on studying the corpses to give the matter any more consideration.

 

… The Angel of Death had ripped out one of the men’s eyes, leaving a mushy paste on his chest and he had proceeded to reach into the hole left behind and tear out the poor schmuck’s trachea through his eye socket, completely destroying the nasal channel and half of the guy’s facial structure with nothing but his bare hands. Given that both men had been back there, he had done this one-handed whilst also leaving a deep purple and blue mark on the second guy’s throat with his free hand, forcing him to suffocate to the sight of his coworker’s face being ripped apart for shits and giggles.

 

{He could do anything he wanted to us if it meant the last thing we got to see was that _smile-_ }

 

[You’re so stupid, you don’t even realize-]

 

“Sure, I mean, we’d come back anyway,” Wade thought out loud. “But maybe not the eye thing cuz that doesn’t look fun-”

 

[HA! And you think he would, what, ask for _permission?_ You think he’s going to _care_ what you want? You _regenerate!_ You’re a serial killer’s wet dream! No one’s going to come looking for you, they’ll just assume you fucked off on your own like before! He can kill you over _and over again and you’ll keep coming back!_ He can cut off your limbs and they’ll grow back! He can do anything he wants to you and _never have to worry_ about the body, because we’ll never just be a body and you’re so fucking dumb you’re _walking right into it!_ ]

 

{He’s not like that.}

 

[The _fuck he isn’t-_ ]

 

“He’s not,” Wade snarled, walking away from the bloody messes and heading back to his shitty apartment. “If he was, he would have killed us in the prison. We were the first person he came across with no guard supervision and he could have done it, but he didn’t. He _held back_ because he didn’t yet have a reason to and he _obviously still doesn’t so_ you can kindly fuck off-”

 

[Why can’t you get it through your thick skull-]

 

{He killed! _For us!_ He did it _for us._ He’s been watching and he’s been there and he didn’t come after us, and when someone tried to hurt us, take us in, he _got rid of our problem for us._ That’s all we’ve ever wanted and _never_ dared to _ask for_ and YOU’RE NOT GOING TO RUIN IT-}

 

White scoffed and Yellow got so angry that he started singing the lyrics to _Barbie Girl_ , the one song that they all knew made White wish he didn’t actually have to exist.

 

_{I’m a barbie girl! In a barbie wooorld! Life in plastic, it’s FANTASTIC! You can brush my hair, UNDRESS ME EVERYWHERE! IMAGINATION! LIFE IS YOUR CREATION! Come on, Barbie! Let’s go party! AH, AH, AH, YEAH-}_

 

Bloody fuck.

 

Well, the only way Wade could manage to sit through that music without shooting himself was if he joined in, so he sang along _loudly_ as he approached his building, waking up all his neighbors. It was so cute that they threw syringes at people they found annoying and then scrambled to pick them back up because they were semi-expensive. In Wade’s opinion, it was a great heroin addict tradition!

 

When he finally got into his large-- albeit disgustingly moldy-- apartment, there was a small message on his bathroom tiles, written using the blood on the rest of the bathroom surfaces.

 

_Thanks. I might take you up on the offer sometime, though with less bleeding._

 

_P.S. Don’t shoot me again._

 

_P.P.S. I was actually surprised by how extensive your first aid kit was; don’t you heal from, like, everything?_

 

_-Real Spidey._

 

“Yellow, I can _feel_ you shaking and it’s hurting my head.”

 

He pulled up a hand to massage his temple as he thought about Spidey’s little impromptu message for him and the fact that he’d completely forgotten Spiderman had been in his apartment the moment Peter showed up and stole his attention.

 

He flinched when Yellow started screaming.

 

{DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS!?}

 

[Don’t say it.]

 

{IT MEANS-}

 

[Please don’t say it. I can’t handle it right now.]

 

“What the hell are you guys _talking about?”_

 

{WE’RE PART OF A LOVE TRIANGLE!!!!}

 

He sounded so freaking _excited_ and Wade burst out laughing because, as much as he _wished_ that were true, he was also pretty sure that Spidey would _never_ be interested in a mercenary, and would try to make him _change_ and Wade was absolutely _sick_ of hearing that spiel from every hero around the states that didn’t know how to _mind their own business._

 

And anyway, with the slightly  _judgmental_  attitude Spiderman had displayed over their actions, Wade would choose Peter Parker _every single time._

 

He didn’t know what the guy’s intentions with him were, but for the first time Wade felt himself burning with curiosity in a way none of his past relationships inspired.

 

The point remained.

 

Peter Parker killed for him. And Spiderman, as adorable and bendy and cool as he was, never would. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! How are you guys? I'm in a HELLA good mood today and managed to finish this before midnight so I'm pumped. Also, I sort of love what happens in this chapter as it has one of the first scenes I planned out when I first thought of this and WE. HAVE. ARRIVED. 
> 
> Hope you guys like it and FEED. ME. COMMENTS. 'cause I'm greedy as hell. 
> 
> With love, Katana.


	4. You've Heard Of The Death Angel, Right? Peter Parker?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter is just one looong interaction between Deadpool and Spidey that leaves White a little traumatized, Yellow burning with excitement, and Spiderman a bit lost. Hope you like it! I certainly had fun.

Wade was trying. _Failing,_ mostly, but still trying. It was just so damn difficult to find Peter Parker when the guy didn’t want to be found. Ever since the helicopter night, it became increasingly difficult for Wade to focus on anything non-Parker-related. Because _nothing_ was as interesting as his gorgeous little fugitive. 

 

That flash of teeth and red stained hands played over and over in Wade’s head like one of those 10 hour repeat music videos on YouTube. It had become an _unhealthy_ obsession, but- 

 

{Since when do we _care_ what’s _healthy?_ } Yellow muttered out the last word with palpable disgust. 

 

[You both very obviously don’t. You’re chasing after a fucking monster, that’s a goddamn call for help if I ever saw-] 

 

Simultaneously, Wade and yellow _burst into hysterical laughter._

 

{Monster? HAHAHA! Have you _seen us? Oh my-_ } 

 

“We unalive people on a weekly basis and-” 

 

{ _-God._ Taking people out is our _literal job-_ } 

 

“-don’t even bother to dump them six feet under, what are you-” 

 

{That was a cute joke, White, hahaHAHAHAHA-} 

 

 _“-talking about?”_  

 

Finally White exploded and started screaming. [That’s exactly my fucking point! It’s our _job,_ we get _paid_ to, we don’t just-] 

 

{We didn’t get paid three nights ago!} Yellow interrupted gleefully. 

 

Wade snorted and continued sifting through the crime reports online. He couldn’t find a damn _thing_ that looked like it might be Peter’s work. 

 

[That’s because you two are fucking _insane-_ ] 

 

{Exactly!} Yellow yelled in triumph. 

 

“That’s _why_ we’re looking for him, White,” Wade explained with the utmost patience for the thousandth time. “His crazy matches my crazy-” 

 

{He’s the sun to our moon-} 

 

“His body count is probably as high as our body count-” 

 

{His _teeth_ belong on our body-} 

 

Wade sighed dreamily and put his head on one palm, resting his elbow on the desk and leaning forward dramatically. “Just imagine taking him on our jobs, watching those pretty red hands crushing the _fuck_ out of-” 

 

[I can’t fucking do this] White whispered, it sounded like he meant for the comment to be to himself but they all shared the same head and none of their thoughts were ever private. At the same time, White sounded like his life’s worth of energy had been depleted and he was just ready to ascend to his maker, just one thousand percent done with his roommates and their concerns. 

 

Wade perked up in his seat and clicked on the next page of reports. “Cheer up, White! We’ll find him eventually.” 

 

He knew damn well that it wasn’t what White wanted to hear, but he delighted himself by saying it anyway. Yellow’s good mood was practically a halo around Wade’s head, not visible to the world at large but bright enough for Wade.

 

White sulked silently, the obvious, _that’s what I’m afraid of_ lingering on his side of Wade’s head. 

 

{Yeah! It’s cool, buddy! Petey-pie’s gonna make it all better with his pretty doe-eyes and-} 

 

There were a couple knocks on the door and Wade squinted at the door. 

 

{Who the fuck-} 

 

“It’s three in the morning, why would anyone-” 

 

[Fuck! He knows where we live! I told you he was watching us! I TOLD YOU HE-] 

 

Exasperated, Wade shoved his mask on, briefly hesitated as he wondered whether or not a three a.m. visit warranted him dressing up in full costume and weaponry, and then decided-- much to White’s screaming protests and insults to his intelligence-- that if someone killed him, he would just pop back up in an hour and it wasn’t worth the hassle of slowly pulling everything on only to take it off again later. He was too lazy for it and he knew that if he went through all the effort of putting it on he wouldn’t want to take it off later and he would fall asleep in it. Again. And then it would hurt to pull it off in the morning because he left the leather on for too long and his skin would get messier than usual. He made his way to the door to his apartment and yanked it open, a curse for Logan dying on his lips as he took in the mask waiting outside of his doorway. 

 

[Why.] 

 

{OH EM EFF GEE, YAY.} 

 

[Why does this shit keep _happening-_ ]

 

Instantly, he grinned and jumped a bit in place. “Spidey! You came to visit moi? How _sweet!”_ Wade hopped forward and hugged the hero, feeling him tense in his arms and deciding not to let him go until the hero specifically requested it. Spiderman awkwardly patted him twice on the back, the second pat lingering a bit as if the guy was trying to get used to it. 

 

“Hi, Deadpool. You, um, you’re very… touchy, aren’t you?” he asked. His hands hovered awkwardly around Deadpool’s midsection, and he was obviously entirely unsure of where to put them. 

 

{He’s _precious._ } 

 

[He’s a threat! What is wrong with you!? Why can’t you acknowledge a fucking _threat!?_ ]

 

Wade shrugged and let one hand down to squeeze one round globe, causing Spidey to _squeal_ indignantly and jump back, smacking his hand away and shouting, “Did you just-” 

 

Wade bent over himself giggling as Yellow went on a rant about how that ass was more perfect than they’d ever realized and he promptly got punched square in the jaw. He heard the air _whooshing_ by his ear as he flew back and watched mid air as regret lined his vistor’s body and a strand of webbing came after him, too late to stop him from hitting the wall of his living room. 

 

[A goddamn _serial killer_ won’t hurt you but you got a fucking _hero_ to punch you across a room. Do you even realize how fucking backward your life is? Why the _hell-_ ]

 

{And he looked sexy as fuck doing it!} Yellow added enthusiastically. 

 

[HE BROKE OUR ARM-] 

 

{And looked cute as hell doing that too!} 

 

[STOP INTERRUPTING ME!]

 

There was a ringing in his ears before he realized that Spidey was kneeling in front of him, spewing apologies frantically and patting him down methodically to check for any injuries. Wade let out a halfway breathless chuckle and grabbed Spidey’s left wrist, holding his hand to Wade’s chest and cheekily stating, “You know, Spidey, if you wanted to touch _all up on this_ all you had to do was _ask!”_  

 

Spidey yanked his hand out of Wade’s grip and _snorted._ “Clearly,” he began with a note of humor in his voice, “You’ve done enough touching for the _both_ of us.” 

 

{He made a dirty joke.} Yellow stated in shock. 

 

[Oh no.] White sounded so apprehensive.

 

{He- he made-} 

 

[Oh fuck, have mercy.] 

 

{He _made a dirty joke, he is our love, our destiny, he GETS US-_ }

 

[You said that ABOUT THE OTHER GUY, GODDAMMIT.] 

 

As Yellow chanted, {Love triangle. Love triangle! _Love triangle! LOVE TRIANGLE!}_ , Wade shook his head and hopped up onto his feet as Spidey began walking around his living room. 

 

“Say, Spidey,” Wade began, curious over the fact that the masked hero was exploring his humble abode as if he was completely comfortable in the space. Spidey did not pause in his exploration to look in Wade’s direction, but somehow Wade got the distinct impression that he was getting the side-eye from the mask in a silent, ‘go on,’ manner. “Uhhh, any reason you decided to stop by? Not that you’re unwelcome, whoo mama, with an ass like that,” he made spherical motions with both hands, “You’re welcome to party at mine ANY TIME, but, you know, a hero like you, a merc like me, people are gonna talk and-” 

 

“Yes?” Spidey interrupted him. 

 

Wade lost track of his argument, confused as to what the random ‘yes’ meant. 

 

{Maybe he just noticed you’re talking to him?} Yellow offered. 

 

White’s suggestion was an irate sounding, [Or MAYBE he’s CRAZY and you need to get him _out of your apartment-_ ] 

 

“Pardon?” Wade asked, drifting over to his own couch and awkwardly following Spidey with his eyes as the hero walked around like he owned the place. 

 

“So what?” Spidey clarified. ‘Clarified’ was probably a rather generous word, because Wade still had no idea what Spidey meant. 

 

Spidey seemed to pick up on his confusion as Wade debated what to say and he came to a stop in front of Wade’s desktop, turning completely to face Wade and elaborating with a slow, “So what if people talk?” 

 

{I CALLED IT. HE WANS THE D-} 

 

[He doesn’t! He _clearly_ needs a psych evaluation, but that in no way suggests-] 

 

{Oh yes, it does-} 

 

[Does not-] 

 

Wade stared, _squealed like a child,_ and threw himself at Spidey, something that made the hero fall over in a failed attempt to dodge him, and Wade hugged the hero’s legs, nuzzling his knees as Spidey tried to get him off so that he could properly stand again. “I knew you loved me, Spidey! White didn’t agree, but Yellow said-” 

 

Spidey froze beneath him, and then his hand covered Wade’s face and the hero shoved him off, hastily asking, “White? Yellow? You’re telling people about me already? Who the _fuck are-”_  

 

Wade didn’t let him finish, his gloved hands already waving in front of him in denial as he replied, “No, no, you don’t get it- White and Yellow are just my voices! Up here,” he pointed at the side of his head, and then visibly deflated as he realized how weird that sounded and he continued with, “Or… or not. They’re my… pet… turtles?” 

 

{Excuse me?}

 

[Fucking turtles, man? Really?]

 

Spidey just glanced at him, laughed and called him out with, “You don’t have pet turtles.” 

 

“Sure, I do. I just have to find them!” Wade protested adamantly, seemingly looking all around his apartment for the wayward turtles. 

 

{Was he jealous of us, though? That. Is. So. Cute!} 

 

[You always jump to the stupidest conclusion available and it’s embarrassing-] 

 

Spidey turned Wade’s beat up leather desk chair and spun it around, sitting in it quite elegantly and asking, in a completely unbothered tone, “So voices, huh?” 

 

Wade fiddled nervously with the end of his long sleeve unicorn pajama shirt and ignored the question, asking his own instead. “So… you don’t care what people might say about a goody two shoes like you and the big bad influence I’m gonna inevitably have on you?” 

 

Spidey crossed one leg over the other and both Wade and Yellow were helplessly drawn to the motion as the guy leaned back in Wade’s chair and said, “Now, I know this might surprise you, Deadpool, but I am-- in fact-- an adult fully capable of making my own decisions.” 

 

{An adult.} 

 

[It’s a lie. He’s trying to lure you in and then his buddies-] 

 

{Ha! He broke our arm when he was halfway passed out, if he wanted to lock us up, he wouldn’t need any _buddies-_ } 

 

[He’s not trying to suck your dick, okay!? There’s obviously a hidden motive here and if you weren’t such an _idiot,_ you would see that.] 

 

“I’m not an idiot,” Wade grumbled quietly. “I’m just a secret optimist.” 

 

“Does that mean we can be friends?” Spidey piped up. 

 

“Say what? You want to be friends? Why? I’m like, so totally not what you should-” 

 

{WHY ARE YOU SABOTAGING US-} 

 

[Keep going.] 

 

“Oh. I mean, if you don’t want to be, that’s fine, but I’m getting really mixed signals here, what with all the hugging and fangirling. I thought you’d be thrilled-” 

 

“I am!” Wade agreed emphatically, “Really, it’s just-” 

 

“Then what’s _the problem here?_ Is there someone else taking up your time or something? I mean, if I’m not welcome then by all means say so but _you_ invited _me_ back after I almost died because you shot me, and I’m _here now_ and it seems like you aren’t happy about it-” 

 

Wade-- suddenly irrationally irritated at the fact that his hesitance was being made out to be unwarranted-- yelled back, _“You’re_ the one that got mad when I stabbed Mr.Stealy A few days ago like you’re all high and mighty, so don’t act like this is so unexpected-” 

 

“Because there were cameras,” Spidey replied, angling his head a bit to the left and just calmly staring at Wade as he abruptly shut up and processed what was being said.

 

{Is he… saying what I think he’s saying?} 

 

[Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Another lunatic. He’s crazier than I thought. Get the hell out of New York. It’s not _safe._ ] 

 

{He’s… okay with the murderscapades?} 

 

[It’s _not true-_ ] 

 

{He’s okay with murder} Yellow repeated, mind not quite catching up to what was happening.  

 

“Uh, Spidey, you… I don’t get it,” he finished lamely, because saying what he was thinking out loud seemed like such a ridiculous concept surrounding the paragon of morality that was Spiderman and Wade didn’t want to look as stupid as he felt right then. 

 

Spidey turned the chair and began inspecting the page Wade was scrolling through earlier as he repeated, “There were cameras and a witness,” he paused to read a bit and then asked, “Hey, why are you looking up recent crime reports?” 

 

Finally, Yellow finished understanding what was happening and belted out, {HE’S OKAY WITH IT, HE DOESN’T CARE, HE WASN’T YELLING OVER THE DEAD GUY, HE WAS-} 

 

[Upset about… the cameras? A witness? Bullshit! No hero would be okay with that unless-] 

 

In an instant, Wade was halfway across the room, turning his own desk chair with a daunting speed as Spidey still sat back in it, calm as ever, and Wade leaned in, his mask about an inch from Spidey’s as he finished White’s sentence to Yellow’s absolute dismay. “He’s hiding something.” 

 

The height of Spidey’s masked cheekbones rose up a fraction with what must have been a small smile and Wade waited impatiently. “Well, Spidey? Wanna trade? I show you my demons and you show me yours? What are you hiding? Heroes don’t just come looking after ol’ Pool saying things like ‘murder is chill’ out of nowhere. You want something from me,” he insisted. His face getting much closer as he glared hard enough that it was visible through the leather and his white lenses narrowed as he hissed out, _“What is it?”_  

 

Spidey’s cheekbones dropped, as did his jaw, and then he breathed in and out in what seemed like shock and he started _laughing._ “Oh my god.” 

 

{It sounds like bells.} 

 

[What is _happening._ ] White was one shock away from a panic attack or tantrum and either way, Wade didn’t want to deal with it. 

 

Wade stared in befuddlement. “What? Why are you-” 

 

“Ha! I can’t _believe-_ I just- _wow.”_ Spidey sounded _amazed_ at something, but Wade couldn’t for the life of him figure out _what._  

 

“Wow _what?”_ Wade bit out, his patience rapidly thinning as he was almost headbutted by the gasping hero in _his_ chair as the dude bent over giggling. 

 

Spidey seemed to sober up at the sheer annoyance rolling off of Wade and he recrossed his long lean muscular legs and rested one elbow on his left thigh to provide support for his head on his right palm and his cheekbones rose once more in what sounded like surprised _delight_ as he asked, “You have no idea who I am, do you?” 

 

{Do we _know_ him?} Yellow whispered in a reverent voice. 

 

[Great. Just fucking lovely. We have _more than one_ stalker.] 

 

“Uh, no? What the hell?” Wade ran through everyone he spoke to on a regular basis and _none_ of those people could _possibly_ be an undercover superhero. No way, no how. “Why _would_ I? We _just_ met-” 

 

Spidey snorted with exactly zero grace and Wade hesitated to keep ranting and finally asked, “... Right?” 

 

Spidey’s cheekbones remained higher than usual and the hero kept shifting excitedly, like a freaking child on christmas morning waiting for their present, “I guess so,” he replied disingenuously, in a slow sarcastic pronunciation that meant he would let Wade believe what he wanted to believe and it irked Wade to no end. “I mean, I was under the assumption that you must have looked under my mask, like, what kind of mercenary would miss the opportunity to look when I was _unconscious-”_  

 

Wade was _appalled_ at Spiderman’s assessment of his character. “And violate the superhero bro code!? _What kind of monster do you take me for, Spideybabe!?”_

 

{He implied that we know him, though, so we’ve seen him before. Hopefully? I mean, probably-} 

 

[WHO CARES WHO HE IS! THE POINT IS THAT THERE’S TWO LUNATICS STALKING US-] 

 

White cut himself off very suddenly and Wade blinked at the uncharacteristic quiet lapse in the box’s complaints when White repeated himself much calmer this time around. 

 

[Two… lunatics…] 

 

Again, the silence. White seemed to be thinking very hard and Wade and Yellow both waited for an outburst of panic, and were instead treated to the sound of _hysterical broken terrified_ laughter emanating from White. The box seemed panicked to the point where he was _beyond_ forming words and just vibrating with a level of anxiety that made Wade grab at his head in sudden _pain._  

 

A hand grabbed at his shoulder gently and Wade looked down at the spandex gloved hand holding him upright with no signs of struggling. “Are you good, ‘Pool?” 

 

Wade gave a wince of a smile. “Peachy, Spidey, it’s just that all your beauty is hurting my brain, you know? Hard to take in all that red and blue without swooning like a teenage girl.” 

 

Spidey laughed lightly and joked, “I bet you have a thing for cops, then.” 

 

Wade grinned, the pain in his head fading even as White continued laughing, the laughter trailing off into what sounded like _sobs._ What the fuck was wrong with his box? 

 

Even _Yellow_ was starting to get worried, his voice cautious as he asked, {White? Buddy? Is everything okay-}

 

[Fuck off!] White finally choked out, [You don’t _know. Neither of you know-_ ] 

 

With White finally back online, Wade felt _exhausted._ He found himself kneeling down in relief and resting his still pounding head into Spidey’s lap as the hero froze up and his arms hovered inches over Wade’s masked head. He didn’t move, though, and Wade counted that as a win. “You have no idea,” he said quietly to Spidey, resting his chin on Spidey’s knee and looking up at his strange little visitor, “But somehow every time I tell an officer they’re sexy, they point a gun at me! I mean, _super_ rude, first of all, but secondly, I didn’t break any _laws,_ so where do they get off-” 

 

“Do you have a license to own your guns?” Spidey asked, finally settling his hands on Wade’s shoulders as that seemed to be a safe place for them. 

 

{Ha! As if!} 

 

White restarted his obnoxiously depressing laughter, but said nothing. 

 

Wade rested his cheek on one of Spidey’s hands and enjoyed the way the hero looked away nervously but couldn’t seem to muster up the courage to make the situation any more awkward by pulling away. “No, what kind of idiot registers a gun in their own name-” 

 

“That’s where they get off,” Spidey informed him. Okay, fair. 

 

Wade leaned himself away to give Spidey some space and watched as the tension literally drained out of the smaller’s body and he relaxed once more in the chair. Wade made himself comfortable sitting cross-legged on the floor, torso leaned backwards, with both palms against the ground behind him to support the weight as he looked back at the spider calmly. 

 

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so relaxed. 

 

“Why do you want to be my friend, Spidey?” he asked seriously. 

 

{Don’t ruin a good thing by _asking, why would you do that-_ } 

 

Spidey did the cheekbone thing again. “Well, for one, I think you’re hilarious if a bit tiring.”

 

Wade scowled and Yellow protested. White watched on, his fear muddling the experience for everyone else. 

 

Spidey continued, oblivious to Wade’s inner struggle. “I also noticed that you don’t go after people that don’t… deserve it? If that makes sense? Look, you have a moral compass even if it _is_ questionable among other superheroes-”

 

“You consider me a superhero?” Wade interrupted, perking up _considerably._  

 

Spidey backtracked and his leg moved up and down rapidly in his seemingly embarrassment, “Well, not _yet,”_ he replied. “But you’ve got the whole healing thing happening, right? And you _do_ help people. You’re just too public about it, and graphic in front of an audience which most people aren’t going to be okay with-” 

 

“But you are?” Wade asked, hopefully. 

 

Spidey hesitated, sighed and said, “Well… wow, this seems like it would have been so much easier to explain when I thought you _knew,_ but sure. Let’s say I am.” 

 

White was cursing up a storm and Wade had to stop himself from glaring at the wall repeatedly because he didn’t want Spidey to think twice and take back his acceptance. 

 

Yellow was absolutely _beside himself_ with excitement, singing Paramore’s _The Only Exception_ in what was, for once, actually a decent rendition. So much so that Wade didn’t even realize he was humming along. 

 

When Wade didn’t say anything more, Spidey made sure to add, “And the public can’t know I’m okay with that, by the way. Especially not the Avengers, or S.H.I.E.L.D. or basically anyone that isn’t you.” 

 

“So…,” Wade started, mind running a million miles an hour as he tried to understand what Spidey wanted from him. “What you’re saying is… that you want to be friends. But you want people to think you’re changing me, even though you’re _not_ and you _don’t plan to_ … and you want me to stop leaving evidence of what I do even though it’s still going to be obvious because I’ll still be getting money from it.” 

 

Spidey crossed his arms and shook his head, resting either foot on one of Wade’s knees with all the comfort in the world as he replied, _“No,_ I’m _saying_ that, as my friend, I’d like you to come on patrols with me if you’re free, I’d like the freedom to come here when I’m bleeding to recover-- though admittedly I wanted that because I thought you already knew who I was so I wasn’t risking my identity but now it’s because I realized you _didn’t look_ so you’re just a safe option--, I’d like to find out more about you _without you groping me in any way shape or form,_ and I’d also like to parade our sudden friendship in front of the Avengers so that they’ll _stop trying to recruit me and S.H.I.E.L.D. can learn to fuck off-”_  

 

“Wait, wait, wait. Time out! Halt!” 

 

{What is it _now?}_ Yellow complained.

 

Spidey halted. 

 

“You think I’m a _safe_ option? You… you want to tell the _AVENGERS_ that you’re friends with _this?”_ Wade pointedly waved a hand over his unicorn pajamas and fluffy pink bunny slippers. “Are you _sure_ about that, Spidey? Because that’s _not_ gonna go over well. That’s like an F minus grade level life decision, right there, I _shot_ you-” 

 

Spidey kicked his kneecap and Wade _whined_ as the area healed over. “I’m a _grown ass man,”_ Spidey growled out. 

 

{Mmmm. So sexy.} 

 

[We need to leave. Right now. Right the fuck now. This isn’t safe-] 

 

“Gonna be honest here, I think I just came in my PJ’s a little.”

 

Spidey immediately removed both booted feet from Wade’s person and sat in this weird little crouch in the chair, both feet flat against the seat in an impressive display of flexibility. 

 

“ _Moving on,_ ” he said in high pitched embarrassment that had Wade grinning from ear to ear. “I don’t care if you kill as long as it’s _not_ around me when I’m in costume. I _really_ don’t need the bad reputation and-” 

 

“But! Does that mean you’ll take your mask off? Just for me?” 

 

{Oh my god, oh my fuck, oh _hell,_ we’re gonna get to see-} 

 

White started speaking again, but it was honestly like he’d lost his mind a bit, like he’d just cracked under the strain of the situation as he kept repeating, [You’re so stupid, you’re so fucking stupid, how do you not _know._ So. Goddamn. Stupid.] 

 

“Nope!” Spidey announced cheerfully, “Where’s the fun in that? If you figure it out on your own, I won’t deny it, but I’m not gonna make it easier for you. This is _highly_ amusing to me.” 

 

Wade pouted. “So cruel,” he whispered. 

 

{So perfect} Yellow countered. 

 

[So fucked. You’re so fucked and _you don’t even know._ ] 

 

Wade ignored White. He was always trying to scare them unnecessarily. 

 

“You never answered my question by the way,” Spidey said, drawing Wade out of his thoughts. 

 

“What question?” Wade couldn’t keep track of what was said very often, and he couldn’t remember ignoring anything in particular that Spidey had said. 

 

Spidey stared at him and Wade just _knew_ he was rolling his eyes. He briefly wondered what color they were and then Spidey turned the chair slightly and gestured at the computer screen. “Crime reports?” 

 

“Oh!” Wade answered, excited to share this now that Spidey said he didn’t particularly oppose criminal deaths. The Angel of Death had a criteria strikingly similar to Deadpool’s so Spidey would probably approve! “I’m trying to find this one cutie! See, there’s this guy that’s like, _gorgeous_ . I met him in prison, by the way. And he’s just _amazing._ He snapped this one dude’s neck for me and it was the most _romantic_ thing anyone’s ever done for me in my _life._ And his _smile,_ Spidey. _God,_ if you saw it you’d love him too.” 

 

He trailed off with a wistful sigh, failing to notice how Spiderman had sat up rigidly straight and was watching Wade intently as he asked with audible apprehension, “And… what’s this guy’s name again?” 

 

“Oh! I forgot to mention it, didn’t I?” Wade asked, eager to finally have someone to talk to about it without being yelled at for his taste or irresponsibility. “You’ve heard of the Death Angel, right? Peter Parker?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just cackling every time a new misunderstanding comes up and I hope you guys had as much fun reading as I did writing this scene, given that it's a veeery long scene. 
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you liked, what you found interesting, and as always, flood me with comments. COMMENTS ARE LOVE, COMMENTS ARE LIFE. 
> 
> See you in the next chapter :)


	5. Liar. You Already Hurt Me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deadpool wakes up somewhere unexpected. Peter Parker takes advantage of his newfound knowledge. Things happen.

“You’re in love. With Peter Parker.” 

 

There was an _extreme_ level of skepticism in Spiderman’s voice and Wade squinted at him briefly before protesting. 

 

“Well- I wouldn’t- it’s not _love._ Like, I think Petey is my one true love, _yes_ absolutely, but I’m not in _love-”_  

 

{Excuse me, yes the fuck we are-}

 

“-Not _yet_ anyway. I mean, one million and ten percent I will be when my baby talks to me again but like, I’m in lust? Is it lust? I want to fuck him or be fucked, I’m not picky, but I also want murderscapades and cuddles and stake out dates. Is that weird-” 

 

[You have no fucking idea _how weird-_ ] 

 

{Do you think he would like it if we built him a murder room?} 

 

“-I don’t know? He always kills them in their homes or at their jobs, I don’t think he would want a personal abattoir-” 

 

A small laugh broke him out of his train of thought and Wade snapped his neck up a bit painfully to look at his favorite spider only to feel his heart sinking at the sight of Spiderman shaking his head in what Wade assumed was disappointment. 

 

{Oh. It’s… harsh. Doesn’t sound like bells anymore…} 

 

[If you have _any_ self-preservation left, any sanity in your small brain, you’ll get out of here within the next five _seconds-_ ]

 

Until Spidey spoke up, “Funny. Sort of maybe in love with a psychopath. You know the psychologists said he can’t love anyone, right?-”

 

{But the psychologists said that about us and they’re full of _shit-_ } 

 

[Just listen to me for _fucking once, you big goddamn moron-_ ]

 

“-It’s literally not in him to feel things. I don’t believe you’d waste your time like that for a _second,”_ he finished. 

 

He sounded odd, almost like he felt betrayed or angry but Wade couldn’t understand _why_ the hero would feel that way when he’d said nothing but the _truth._ And then came the accusation, “You’re after him, aren’t you? Fuck, and I thought you only went after the bad guys but _no,_ you’d go after him when he’s done nothing wrong and let me guess! You wanted me to help you find him under the pretense of some stupid obsession-” 

 

During the entire tirade, Wade felt several emotions: disbelief, annoyance, confusion, offense and finally it all culminated in a white hot ball of anger pooling in his chest. 

 

“Get out.” 

 

Spidey’s verbal assault halted in its tracks and he froze up, glancing up to notice that Wade had stood up and now towered over him. “Wait, you _actually-”_

 

“Get. Out.” Wade repeated slowly. 

 

[No, no, no, don’t talk to him like that-] 

 

{ _Hurt him_ } Yellow hissed defensively. 

 

[No! Don’t! Don’t fucking _touch_ him!]

 

“It’s not a stupid obsession,” Spiderman thought out loud, sounding as stunned as Wade had been in the prison riot. His gloved hands fidgeted on the chair handles and he showed no intention of getting up and leaving. “You really like him.” 

 

“Yes,” Wade growled out furiously. “And if you have a problem with it,” he continued, making wild arm gestures toward the door, “Then you can fuck right off just like everyone else who thinks they can tell me what I can and can’t do-” 

 

“I don’t have a problem with it. I’m just a little offended.” 

 

“What?” 

 

{Offended? But- we didn’t do anything!} 

 

[Oh dear hell. Now you’ve offended him. This is it. It’s fucking over. It’s all over-] 

 

“But that doesn’t make any sense! Why would you-” 

 

“Here I am trying to make a friend and it turns out I’m playing second best to a serial killer. I don’t think he’s a bad choice, I’m just offended I’m not a show stopper. I mean,” he paused to gesture to himself with one big wave, “I’m a superhero in your living room and the guy you’re obsessed with is a fugitive. Kind of hurts a guy’s ego a bit.” 

 

Any and all frustrations Wade felt were squashed and he grinned mischievously, leaning in and delicately gracing four fingers across Spidey’s jaw and throat.  

 

{He is _jeaaalouuuuusss._ } 

 

White erupted in peals of laughter at Yellow’s statement and the noise was annoying but not quite jarring enough to distract Wade.

 

“Do you want me to be in love with _you,_ sweetheart?” 

 

In less than a second, a strong hand gripped Wade’s wrist and snapped it. The sound echoed in the room as Deadpool’s view of his surroundings changed when Spidey abruptly flipped him onto his stomach in one graceful move and placed one booted heel in the space between his shoulders, keeping him firmly on the ground.

 

{Oh. Oh _yesssss._ } 

 

[You’re disgusting.] 

 

“Hnng.” 

 

Spidey didn’t even need to move his leg from its place to lean all the way down and whisper by Wade’s ear, “You don’t want to love me. It would be the biggest mistake of your life.” 

 

{Nonsense! Lies! Untruth!}

 

[LISTEN TO HIM AND GET OUT WHILE YOU STILL CAN-]

 

His cheekbones rose again and Wade felt something weird and small fluttering in his chest as Spidey let him go. He coughed to cover his stunned reaction and shrugged, replying playfully, “It’s not like a mistake or two will kill me, so what are we doing for Valentine’s Day, Webs? Skydiving? Movie? A fancy rooftop dinner for two?” 

 

Spidey snorted and made his way to the door with a wave and a, “Sure. Tacos on a roof after patrol and if you’re lucky, I won’t break any of your bones.” 

 

“BE STILL MY BEATING HEART, I FEEL _WOOED.”_

 

Spidey’s soft laughter echoed down the hall of Wade’s ratty building and he found himself smiling as Yellow once again announced the bell comparison and the fact that Spidey _knew them so well._  

 

White seemed to feel exhausted and resigned if the dull ache from Wade’s head meant anything and he finally said, [You’re going to feel very, _very_ stupid when you realize how fucked this is.] 

 

That was fine, though. Wade was used to feeling like an idiot on occasion. He totes knew what he was getting into. With that belief, Wade fully planned to go out the next night in full Deadpool regalia and hang out on ‘patrol’ with Spidey. This plan was something he failed to follow through on since he was shot full of tranquilizers the second he stepped out of his apartment. 

 

{AGAIN. FUCKING AGAIN.} 

 

[Of course. When have they ever minded their own shit?] 

 

Waking up in an interrogation room was an unpleasant surprise. He’d been hoping that kidnapping was just Peter’s way of officially introducing himself but _nooo._ Of course not. S.H.I.E.L.D. always had to stick their noses in other people’s business. Routine. He just hoped they didn’t try to jail him this time, breaking out was always a pain in the ass. 

 

The screen came alive with static even though Wade was alone and cuffed in the room, and then the blurry image of a guy on a roof appeared. It was obvious the footage came from an old security camera and Wade didn’t see what the scene had to do with him until the video started playing and the sounds of explosions erupted from the speakers. That’s when the figure dressed in baggy clothes started looking familiar and Wade felt a small smile taking over his face. The sounds continued, along with the _shoop-shoop-shoop_ of the helicopters and the crashing. Wade watched, fascinated, as his precious little Houdini backed up to the edge of the roof out of the camera’s sight, and then _ran forward_ in a dead sprint towards the opposite edge, coming back into view and _jumping off the roof_ with no _safeguard whatsoever_. He didn’t have a grappling hook and rope, nothing. He just fucking jumped out at the passing helicopter at the perfect moment and caught the rail at the bottom by a terrifying margin. If he had been one second longer, jumped a single inch lower, he would have fallen and died. 

 

The footage cut off once the helicopter was out of sight and then Wade was treated to the sight of himself on the restaurant security system, fighting his way through cops and blowing the place the hell up. 

 

After that, another video popped up, this one from a camera installed inside a S.HI.E.L.D. helicopter that showed a smiling, blood-covered, Peter Parker winking at Deadpool. 

 

The whole montage made Wade feel warm and gooey inside. Yellow was _swooning_ because Peter Parker hadn’t just killed someone for them, he had damn near _died_ for them. White was laughing again, an action that was becoming disturbingly common with him, but his laugh sounded more shocked than it did depressed and Wade tried not to feel more confused than he did protected and oddly _safe_ as he thought about his Death Angel going to such extreme lengths to protect him and doing so with the utmost confidence. 

 

The screen shut off, the lights came back on in the room, and the door to his left opened to reveal a pointy looking agent who looked like he was trying _hard_ to remain composed as Deadpool grinned to himself in front of him. 

 

{Faaaaaaaake!!!!} 

 

[He looks like he’s going to throw up.] 

 

Fake nerves of steel. 

 

“How are you this evening, Mr.Wilson?” 

 

Wade rolled his eyes, an action which made him realize how undisturbed his eyes felt. He wasn’t wearing his mask. _They had taken his mask._ It wasn’t the first time they had done something that stupid, but it was the first time they’d tried it in years and Wade was angry they hadn’t learned their lesson. They knew better. His face was worse for them to look at than it was for Wade to wear and they’d sent him a posh little bastard who flinched at the sight of his smile. Ridiculous. 

 

“Cut the shit, newbie. We both know you’re only here because someone else didn’t want to be. Now why don’t you put on your big boy pants and run along to Fury and tell him I’m just about _dying_ to see him-- so excited-- and that you wouldn’t want me to get _angry-”_

 

The agent paled, but stood his ground and sat across from Wade, opening a file with the CCTV images on the desk and a mugshot of a sweet teenage Peter Parker smiling softly at the camera even with a head of matted brown hair and bags under his eyes. 

 

{OMG HE LOOKS SO CUTE WHAT EVEN-}

 

[Crazy even back then, I see.]

 

“What is your affiliation with Peter Parker?” 

 

{We’ll never talk! We have the right to remain silent!} 

 

[Right. Silent. When the fuck have either of you been silent?]

 

Wade scowled. “And how is that any of your business?” 

 

Newbie flinched but seemed to double down on his efforts of smiling politely and replied, “As Parker is a dangerous convict-” 

 

Wade guffawed loudly in the agent’s face and stated, _“I’m_ a dangerous convict, _I’m_ more likely to kill your entire organization on a fucking _whim_ that Peter Parker _ever_ would be-” 

 

The agent looked at Wade with a brief flash of doubt and that… _that_ was startling. They had reason to believe that Parker was more inclined to murder them all than Deadpool was after all the shit they’d put him through, so just what the fuck had they done to his Death Angel? 

 

Yellow instantly demanded that Wade kill the man. 

 

White protested, urging him to ask questions to their advantage. 

 

Wade compromised. He snapped both thumbs to get out of his restraints and watched as the scared excuse of a man tried running out of the room, only for alarms to go off at the last second and the lights to cut out. 

 

“No,” the guy whispered. “This can’t be happening.” 

 

Wade’s forehead creased in thought. The lights were down in S.H.I.E.L.D., red emergency breach lights were going off based on the red light shining in periodically from beyond the locked door, and there were very few people Wade knew that were capable of breaching S.H.I.E.L.D. technology, whether it be through online interference or sheer force of will. One of those people was Weasel, but he’d stated many times that he wasn’t fucking with S.H.I.E.L.D. on Wade’s behalf unless they had a hit worth no less than twenty million out on someone and Wade was needed. The second was Tony Stark, even though Wade hated to admit that the alcoholic bastard was useful for anything, he was a genius and S.H.I.E.L.D. would be absolutely stupid to deny the man information or entry. That left Peter Parker, who had used a dead pilot’s handprints to access the codes necessary to drive a government owned helicopter. 

 

{AHHH! Do you think he came for _us?_ Is he our personal death angel now?} 

 

[I _highly_ doubt-] 

 

The screen came back on and illuminated the pointy redhead’s face that was clenched in fear. 

 

On screen, there was a familiar absolutely breathtaking smile. His favorite murderer was all decked out in a suit, hair gelled back all professional like, blood splashed all over his otherwise pristine white button up shirt. 

 

“You know,” Peter started innocently, wide brown eyes sparkling, “I was just fine with minding my own business and laying low. But then you all decided to take an interest in the guy who broke me out of prison. By the way, hi, Deadpool. Sorry about all of this,” that smile grew fond and then disappeared, making Wade feel a terrible sense of loss. Brown eyes narrowed, growing hard and judgemental. “Anyway, I was curious, because what could be so urgent that the lot of you decided to take on Deadpool after a good year of radio silence? And it just so _happens_ that you have files on me. And on all the people you think I’ve killed in the past seven months. Kudos, you got five of them right. And you know what?” he asked, pausing to pick a gun off from somewhere off screen and shoot someone who had succeeded in entering the surveillance room. He checked the number of bullets left in his weapon on screen and sat back down, continuing as if nothing had happened. “I _would_ have let that go. You’re not the only ones investigating me. No harm, no foul. But you went after Deadpool because of _me,_ which I thought was hilariously misguided as we have not spoken since the prison riot. Whatever. But I’m done, Fury. Completely done. First Gwen, then Harry, you ran my aunt out of the fucking country, you bribed Flash, and now you’re going after a mercenary that’s more likely to kill me than protect me? I let a lot of shit slide before I got arrested, and I couldn’t do a damn thing from the inside, but to those of you who don’t agree with your employer, you have five minutes to send this to every S.H.I.E.L.D. base and get the fuck out before I burn this to the ground and head to every other known location.” He breathed in deeply, brought the gun up into view again and blinked twice before stating, “I have been patient, I have been merciful, I waited for you all to get your heads out of your asses. If anyone is still in the building in,” he checked the time, “Four minutes, I’m going to kill first and ask questions later.” 

 

{WE HAVE TO KILL FURY RIGHT FUCKING NOW, UNALIVE FOR DAYS, UNALIVE FOR WEEKS-} 

 

[It’s not worth it! S.H.I.E.L.D. has been on our ass forever, are you really going to take them on for a fucking _lunatic-_ ] 

 

Yes. Yes, the fuck he would. 

 

Parker got up to walk away, but then paused and popped back into view, leaning down to smile at the camera and say, “And Deadpool?” 

 

“Yes, dear?” Wade replied, knowing damn well Parker couldn’t hear him. 

 

Parker seemed amused anyway and Wade suddenly realized that the guy was in the surveillance room and watched Wade reply to the screen. 

 

“Want to know a secret?” Doe-eyes stared back at him from the screen, deep and hypnotizing even when they weren’t staring him down in person and Wade nodded emphatically with the new knowledge that Houdini was watching. 

 

That pretty stretch of white teeth and soft pink lips widened for a brief blissful moment before Parker put on a sad expression, brown eyes watering just enough to manipulate without going over the top. He seemed disappointed but _expectant_ as he confessed, “No one’s ever killed someone for me. I get rid of the scum in people’s lives, but no one’s done the same for me.” He blinked slowly, fluttering long dark lashes before asking in a tone full of sinister implications, “Isn’t that sad?” 

 

{We’ll do it! ME!ME!ME! US! We’re down! We call it! We’ll be the first!} 

 

[Oh no. Oh fuck. _HELL._ He’s not planning on killing you. He’s going to use you. You’re going to be his personal _slave, HIS FUCKING DOG,_ and you don’t even _care_.]

 

Wade paid White no mind; despite his protests he seemed oddly relieved and Wade wanted to be suspicious but was too preoccupied with watching the one. Peter Parker was watching him, maskless, and rather than reacting with shock or disgust, he smiled sweetly and tried manipulating him. Wade had fucking _called it._ How freaking cute; it was murder love 101. Parker wanted someone to kill for him? Wade would deliver. Wade would commit a fucking _massacre._  

 

He nodded sharply and Parker grinned brightly before the screen cut out and the lights came back on and the door slid open. 

 

Wade and the random agent locked eyes as the guy adjusted to the brightness of the room and ran only for Wade to catch up from behind and aim a harsh kick at the very bottom of the dude’s spine. He went down like a sack of potatoes and struggled to breathe through the pain. Wade giggled and counted down the seconds as he stripped the guy of his two guns and a taser. They weren’t exactly his katanas, and Wade would have to find those soon, but for the moment they would do. 60 seconds, 120, 180, 240. Go time. It had been four minutes and Wade could still hear agents running around, heading toward the surveillance floor but also to the ground floor where he was. They’d kept watching Petey’s personal message for Deadpool then. Nice. 

 

{That’s a BREACH OF FUCKING PRIVACY IS WHAT IT IS-} 

 

[It was on a shared stream with literally every other screen in the building. That’s not exactly _private._ ] 

 

Agents were coming for him, so Wade went to the main stairway of the major exit floor and waited. Just as he expected, a _flood_ of them poured down. Some looked like they were out for blood or, in Wade’s case incapacitation. Decapitation? Castration? Ha. Wade grinned. Others looked like they were terrified and just hadn’t made it to the exits soon enough, but Bambi had been more than clear in his instructions. They had been given five minutes to get the hell out of dodge and Bambi was out for blood, so Wade was ready to make it fucking rain. 

 

It started with dodging their weapons and firing off bullets of his own, but then one of them got too close to him and before Wade could even catch up with his own actions, he had knocked the guy off his feet, snatched his arm as the guy put both arms forward to catch himself, and Wade snapped the guy’s forearm over his own knee, watching a piece of bone jaggedly tear right through the screaming man’s skin. Wade promptly took hold of the sharp end of bone, gripped it tight, and _yanked it out,_ watching as the seam of shredded human skin spread all the way down this stranger’s arm and the bone came lose with some hand fragments sticking to the end, dripping crimson. Within five minutes, everyone on that floor had been stabbed by a jagged bone fragment in a series of wild frenzied movements. Anyone on the ground who looked like they might still be breathing had a visit on their skull from Wade’s boot. By the end of it, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s bulletproof glass stairs were covered in corpses, the ceiling was covered in arcs of varying shades of red, and the steps looked like those of a botanic water fountain, slowly pouring liquid in a cascade that just didn’t seem to end. 

 

In another situation, Wade would have stopped to admire it. This time he did not. 

 

{This is for PETEY-PIE!} 

 

[This is a fucking mess.] 

 

This wasn’t something for them to enjoy. This was a gift for Parker. 

 

There were just so fucking many of them. Seven floors up and there were still people coming out of the goddamn shadows to hurt him. And this was in a building with at least a hundred rooms on each floor. 

 

Wade had checked each and every single one, including bathrooms and formerly locked offices, to make sure not a single person made it out alive. Parker wanted to send out a warning to the other bases, he wanted their agents to stew in fear and quit in a string of panic, to destroy the entire organization within a matter of days without lifting a single delicate finger and Wade wanted to be the one to make it happen. He wanted to see that wicked smile directed at him as many times as possible. 

 

It was with this hope that he snatched guns right from people aiming at him, wrapped shoelaces around the necks of people hiding from him, aimed for the headshot any time he still had bullets, ripped out more bones when he was low on ammunition and the previous ones had broken under the strain of his violence. At one point, Yellow started singing _It’s Raining Men,_ but Wade was too focused to pay attention, dead set on finishing his task in just under a couple hours. 

 

When he reached the surveillance floor, he walked right past it. Parker was in there, but so was a trail of bodies down the hallway leading up to the main room. The penthouse floor had not been searched, and while Wade highly doubted Fury or any of his cohorts would still be around, he wasn’t going to cut corners when his future wifey, hubby? partner? whatever, was watching. 

 

Once it was clear no one was up there or on the roof, Wade made his way back down to the one trail of bodies he wasn’t responsible for and admired it, taking note of each detail as this wasn’t his doing. It was something Parker had done, knowing full well Wade would see it. 

 

Most of it was graphic, several decapitations and knife wounds through the throat. It was eerily similar to the way Wade usually went about unaliving people, sans the missing explosions, and he instantly knew exactly why he hadn’t found his katanas anywhere in the building. Parker had taken the care to break them out of holding before the shutdown and had used them. Wade was honored his items had been deemed so important. 

 

{He GETS US. _Earth angel, earth angel, will you be mine? My darling, dear, love you ALL THE TIME, I’m just a FOOL! A fool in love WITH YOU! OH!}_

 

[STOP THAT RIGHT NOW, YOU FUCKING STOP THAT SHIT, YOU CAN’T SING! YOU CAN’T FUCKING SING!] 

 

{ _I fell for you! And I knew! The vision- of your love- lovelineeeesss!}_

 

[Fucking tonedeaf. He’s copying our kill style and you’re ranting about love. He’s trying to FRAME US!] 

 

Wade snorted louder than he was proud of. They had killed the majority of the people in the building in more violent ways than they tended to favor and what did it matter if twelve names more were added to his file? 

 

The worst of the bodies was a woman’s. There were six large holes in her torso. It didn’t look like they had been made by swords or bullets. They were too wide, like someone had reached in with their bare hands and just shredded the skin to get to what they wanted. Each of her ribs had been torn from its place, snapped in half, and laid about around her body. There were purple and blue bruise marks all over her arms and neck, as if she’d fought back and gotten as good as she gave, and finally, one of the holes was wider than the others, stretched grotesquely over the chest cavity, where there was a reddish purple sludge. No heart. Peter had literally crushed her heart in his hands so quickly and efficiently that it _liquified the muscle._ She died with wide, shocked eyes and a trail of tears on each cheek. It was… 

 

{Beautiful.} 

 

[Horrifying.] 

 

… a work of art. 

 

And the artist was just a door away. 

 

Wade took a deep, shaky breath to prepare himself and turned the door handle. 

 

He was one thousand percent not prepared for the pain he felt the second he entered. Abruptly, there was nothing supporting him and he fell gracelessly to the floor, breathing heavily and screaming from the radiating pain that had caught him off guard. The boxes went silent with the blank noise filling his ears.

 

A moment later, he was turned onto his back, there was something soft and warm under the back of his head, and two red-stained wet hands gently carded over his scalp in soothing little motions that he felt too disoriented to really appreciate. 

 

“Shhh, shh. It's okay. You're okay. I’m sorry. I had to make sure you wouldn’t follow me,” his attacker informed him. 

 

Through his blurry vision, Wade finally realized that his head was being held in Peter Parker’s lap as the serial killer knelt to support him, and Wade was no longer armed. The blinding sudden pain had fucked with him so badly that he hadn’t even _noticed_ that Parker took them away. 

 

Wade glanced down once he understood where the pain came from and it started to feel familiar. “Did- ha, oh my _god, you-_ you cut off my legs. You- fuck!” 

 

He was in shock. The emotion was definitely shock. 

 

And somehow Parker looked so guilty, as if cutting off Wade’s legs was the worst thing he’d done in his life but Wade knew that wasn’t the case. “I know, I’m sorry, here,” he handed Wade both his katanas and Yellow logged back online to cheer gratefully. 

 

Wade gripped them tightly and asked, in extreme bafflement, “You just cut off my _legs,_ sweetheart. Why the _fuck_ are you handing me weapons? Do you _want to die?”_  

 

There was that small sweet little grin with a tinge of smug satisfaction. “You wouldn’t kill me,” Parker replied, sounding absolutely sure of himself. Wade couldn’t even be offended, he was right. Was he that obvious? Did Parker figure out his affection for him so easily? 

 

“You don’t know that,” Wade replied petulantly, and Parker lifted one hand to smother his own laughter. Wade wondered what his laugh sounded like. 

 

Parker shrugged. “I cut off your legs, not your arms. You’ve got your swords, so go on. Have at me.” He looked down with a deadpan expression and Wade erupted in a fit of childish giggles even in his pained state of regeneration. “How long do your legs take to grow back?” 

 

Wade stopped laughing and squinted thoughtfully. “I’m not sure. Give or take an hour? Depends how many tacos I’ve eaten lately.” 

 

Parker sighed and looked away before bringing out a syringe that instantly had Wade on edge. 

 

“I’m going to set this place on fire, so I need to get you out of here before any reinforcement divisions or military help arrives. I won’t hurt you, I promise.” 

 

Wade didn’t have the time or stamina left to move out of the way, and he felt the needle piercing his skin, the liquid seeping into his body. 

 

He only had the presence of mind to mumble quietly, “Liar… Totally gon’ hurt mm… already... hurt….” 

 

The last thing he saw before the darkness was the rare sight of the Death Angel with genuine regret on his pretty features.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I couldn't update last week! I ended up using my days off to build my sister's new room furniture and I just couldn't find the time to make this into what I wanted it to be, but! I AM BACK. For those waiting for an update on The Inverse, I'll try to get it done tomorrow but it may be up Thursday morning, keep an eye out. 
> 
> For everyone just here for Sharp Teeth, sorry for the week delay, the new chapter is here and I hope you guys like it! Also, feel bad for Wade he went through a LOT of effort to get cut down. It gets better though, promise! 
> 
> Also, I didn't have time to really go through and look for mistakes so I'll get around to editing this chapter on Friday, sorry if you see any, I'll fix it, I just didn't want to delay this an extra three days. 
> 
> FEED ME THE COMMENTSSSSSSSS. 
> 
> All the love, Katana.


	6. Spidey Is The One.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade wakes up to the sight of Spiderman and ends up saying something that Spidey wasn't supposed to hear.

{Hey! Open your eyes I can’t see who’s touching us-} 

 

[Wake up, RIGHT. NOW.] 

 

Blearily, Wade popped one eye open and squinted at the sight in front of him. 

 

He was… laying on the couch in his apartment. His legs were still in the process of growing back, small smooth baby looking appendages that always felt foreign and uncoordinated when they started off. Whatever Parker had sedated him with was strong enough to knock him out _and_ slow down his regeneration while his body burned it off. That wasn’t very nice. 

 

“Oh! You’re awake. Are you okay? I came to see if you wanted to go on patrol but you didn’t have legs and-” 

 

Roughly, Wade spoke up. “You… came to get me? Why?” 

 

Webs finally came into view from behind the couch and crossed his arms as Wade forced both eyes to open up, even if he was still squinting tiredly. “Because we’re _friends?_ I thought we had already established this. I can come here if I’m injured, you can come with me on patrol, the whole nine yards? You said you were my valentine.” 

 

{HE WANTS THE D!} 

 

[Oh, believe me, it is _extremely clear_ that he does _not._ ] 

 

{He _sooooo_ does. He said he was our valentine. He came to our apartment for ‘patrol’.} 

 

[He cut off-] 

 

Wade nodded, his head clearing slightly as the seconds went by. “Yeah. Yes. Tacos on a rooftop.” 

 

{Tacos! Tacos! TACOS!} 

 

[Why does it always have to be tacos? If you’re going to try to fuck crazy people why can’t you go for something classy like… italian?] 

 

{YOU DARE BESMIRCH THE NAME OF THE SACRED STAPLE OF MEXICAN FOOD THAT IS THE TACO-} 

 

Spidey’s mask did the cheekbone thing and the hero nodded indulgently, hands falling on his own hips as he echoed, “Tacos on a rooftop.” He then tilted his head slightly and added, “When you finish growing back your legs. What happened anyway?” 

 

His little web crawler sat on the couch beside Wade’s half grown legs and crossed his own as he waited for the process to finish up now that Wade was conscious and his regeneration was back on at full speed. He turned toward Wade expectantly. 

 

“Oh. I, uh, may have had a little run in with S.H.I.E.L.D. Nothing too crazy, just one outpost. You know, the usual.” 

 

{Totally not a huge deal.} 

 

[He knows you’re lying.] 

 

{It’s not a _lie-_ } 

 

“How would he know-” 

 

“Is that so?” Spidey asked, doubt and what sounded like amusement lacing his voice. 

 

Wade hesitated and then replied, “... Yes?” 

 

“That sounded like a question,” Spidey said quickly. 

 

“It wasn’t.” 

 

“Okay. Sure.” Webs nodded and then pulled out a phone from his boot, scrolling quickly through his texts. “I suppose the phone calls and messages from the Avengers about a massacre at a S.H.I.E.L.D. compound and the involvement of one Peter Parker had _nothing_ to do with you.” 

 

{DENY! Claim innocence! WE DID NOTHING!} 

 

[You dense motherfucker, he already KNOWS.] 

 

Wade blinked and then, after a beat of silence, asked, “The involvement of Peter Parker… what do you mean?” 

 

Parker’s threats had been shared on private S.H.I.E.L.D. servers and while they would definitely be sent to other S.H.I.E.L.D. compounds via encrypted emails, there was _no way_ anyone else had accessed them. Wade had assumed Parker would leave him just outside the compound as a form of common courtesy and thanks for the assist and frame him. After all, people gunning for Deadpool wouldn’t be anything more than an annoyance while people gunning for Parker would limit his ability to interact with other people severely. Then again, Parker was too smart to chase after social interactions as a wanted man. What Wade wanted to know was how the hell his favorite serial killer was getting by without relying on previous acquaintances. In any case, there was no reason for the public to already be aware of his involvement. He had to have framed Deadpool because, well, why _wouldn’t_ he? 

 

Spiderman stared back at him and then announced very carefully, “I think you might want to watch the news.” 

 

After yanking his laptop out from beneath the cushions, Wade looked at the news articles blowing up online and the video that went viral in a matter of minutes. Peter Parker was running away from the S.H.I.E.L.D. compound as it went up in flames, just as reinforcements arrived. At first, paramedics ran up to him, thinking he was a victim, or possibly because he was carrying an unconscious legless body in his arms as he ran away. In the video, Wade was obviously cradled in Parker’s arms, a S.H.I.E.L.D. defense helmet on his head, blocking the view of his face from the world. Once the shock of who they were looking at registered on the faces of those on the scene, they sprang into action, but Parker was too fast and too reckless for them to keep up with. The guy ran circles around them, not attacking anyone first but striking back twice as hard whenever he was struck, dodging bullets that almost hit him and bullets that almost hit Wade as well. This time, he _did_ have a grappling hook and just as one ambulance took off with an injured officer inside, Parker set the thing off, forcing his way under the truck with Wade cradled above him during the process, string of bullets _barely_ missing them as officers screamed at each other to not let a murderer get away while others angrily voiced concerns about blowing out the tires of the ambulance carrying their fellow officer. Wade knew from experience that with the proper medical care the wound would not be fatal, but they probably didn’t realize it at the time and the entire force was divided, officers still aiming weapons at the ambulance while others committed insubordination by aiming their guns at their superiors. All this while the building collapsed behind them and everything was caught on camera from above. It was beautiful. But the new helicopters followed the ambulance on its journey to the hospital and was soon joined by twenty five police cars in tow and another three helicopters from different new stations looking to capitalize on the footage of Peter Parker being arrested. To the shock and dismay of many-- and joy of others-- Peter Parker and his supposed victim were nowhere to be found once the ambulance arrived at its destination. How did none of them realize that the ambulance passing under a freeway overpass was a bad idea since Parker would take advantage of the darkness to drop and hide in another vehicle while patrol cars focused on catching up? How did no one even guess that Parker was _protecting_ the man in his arms when he so obviously shielded him from even being seen properly by outsiders.  

 

{I love him. You can both be in denial as much as you want but I fucking love him. WE ALL LOVE HIM.} 

 

[WHAT PART OF HE CUT OFF OUR FUCKING LEGS DID YOU NOT UNDERSTAND.] 

 

Spidey was watching him, waiting, but Wade couldn’t tear his eyes from the screen. The news report made it clear that all recording of the deaths inside the building had been destroyed and that as far as anyone could tell, Parker was solely responsible for the massacre of three hundred and seventy two people, possibly seventy three if the ‘hostage’ he had taken did not survive the loss of his limbs. 

 

“He didn’t frame me,” Wade spoke out loud. 

 

{ _He wouldn’t have!_ } 

 

[Nothing’s going to be enough, is it? This is our life now. Nothing’s ever going to make you walk away. How are you this stupid? How is _anyone_ this stupid?] 

 

“ _What?_ You thought he was going to _frame_ you? Why-” 

 

Wade snapped his head to the side to meet Spidey’s masked eyes and said, “Because I did it. Because it was _me._ He killed maybe, what, _eleven_ people in that entire thing. The feds are _never_ going to stop looking for him now and did you say the _Avengers_ are involved now? FUCK! Why _didn’t he blame me?”_

 

[BECAUSE HE’S TRYING TO MANIPULATE YOU, YOU FUCKING ROCK.] 

 

{Because he probably loves us too!}

 

Spidey shrugged, but it looked stiff and uncomfortable. “Maybe he didn’t want to give anyone more reasons to try to kill you. We all know damn well Hydra is still around, regardless of what the captain claims and I know for a fact that Weapon X wasn’t the only dark mutant research facility out there-” 

 

Wade sat up and shook his head, speaking rapidly, “But he had no reason to! I can’t die and he _can._ It’s _stupid_ to put himself at risk when I can-” 

 

“Why did you kill those people, Wade?” 

 

{Oh. Oh, our name sounds so sweet on his tongue-} 

 

[The fact that you don’t even know makes this even more annoying-] 

 

Wade’s forehead creased in confusion at the subject change and he felt one of his sores opening painfully. He winced but replied, “Because… Because they hurt him. It was a travesty! He said no one had ever killed for him before and that’s just not okay! Everyone needs a murder on their behalf, it’s the spice of life, otherwise what’s the point-” 

 

Spidey then grabbed Wade’s face to look at him again and said, “Exactly.” 

 

{Is this our rom-com moment? When does the smooching start, I want to savour it!} 

 

[Fuck me. Why are you like this.] 

 

Spidey let Wade go and continued with the pointed words, “You charge millions for every person you behead. You’re the greatest mercenary in the _world_ and not only did you kill on his command, you did so for _free_ . I don’t know if you realize what that means, especially when the prison guards all reported sightings of a man dressed in red and black leather with swords strapped to his back. _Everyone_ in the super community and in law enforcement knows you’re the reason he got out. You gave him his freedom and _hundreds_ of bodies. What part of _any of that_ do you think would make any person want to sabotage you? Even if he just thinks you’re _useful,_ he wouldn’t do something to get every mad scientist in the world to try and find a way to kill you. What kind of idiot do you think he is?” 

 

Wade was listening, but his attention was caught by the blood of Spiderman’s gloves. Blood on the hand that had come into contact with Wade’s face. 

 

{ _Where is our mask-}_  

 

[He’s not going to care-] 

 

{THE FUCK HE WON’T, WHERE IS OUR MASK-} 

 

In less than a second, he was throwing himself behind the couch and squirming away, cursing himself for not realizing it earlier. 

 

“Wade, what-” 

 

“DON’T LOOK AT ME!” Wade was nearly in tears, hands coming up to shield his face and panicking so much because his legs were still too skinny to hold him up so he could run into his room to get his spare. It was one thing for S.H.I.E.L.D. to see his face, they already _knew._ Even Peter looking was fine, Peter was as much a monster as Wade was and he wouldn’t care, but Spiderman was the pinnacle of morality, he was probably beautiful and he wasn’t used to the more gruesome side of things-- 

 

“Wade, stop it! You’re going to hurt yourself-” 

 

The string of hysterical laughter that poured out of Wade was inevitable. Hurt himself. 

 

He uncovered his face and turned back towards Spiderman’s voice, meeting masked eyes and baring his teeth angrily as he screamed, “SO FUCKING _WHAT?”_ defensively. 

 

Webs didn’t flinch. He walked around the couch, one leg coming in front of the other in very precise footsteps, like he was approaching a scared animal and a part of Wade felt offended, but the rest of him acknowledged that the description fit him well. He kept waiting for an insult, some acknowledgement of his looks, anything. 

 

Instead, Spidey knelt in front of him both hands reaching up at a snail’s pace as he waited for a violent movement from Wade and didn’t get anything more than heavy, startled breathing. 

 

Finally, two gloved palms cradled either side of his face as Wade stared back with wide blue eyes and Spidey’s cheekbones rose slightly. “I will never be upset if you bleed on me, since I bled on you first.” 

 

{That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.} 

 

[It’s psychopathic is what it is. WAKE THE FUCK UP.] 

 

“I didn’t, no- that’s not- my face! My _face_ is what you should be upset about-” 

 

It was such a ridiculous premise that Wade couldn’t even react without stumbling over his words. How did his _blood_ get more attention than his scars? 

 

Spidey paused in place and then in the most confused tone Wade had ever heard from him he asked, “Why would your face upset me?” 

 

His hands were still on either side of Wade’s face, placed just where his jaw met his cheeks and Spidey was looking at the ground in thought like he simply couldn’t understand what Wade was getting at. 

 

{Holy fuck. He… is he _blind?_ } 

 

[Fuck. You’ll _never_ get rid of him now. He’s _lying!!_ If anyone is blind here, it’s _you!_ So what if the guy has a strong stomach, he’s still just an actor-] 

 

Wade was floored, so much so that he couldn’t even move as Spidey gathered his thoughts. His stomach flipped when Spidey glanced back up and his cheekbones rose up one final time as he said, “If it’s the scars, I have some too! And I get injured a lot, so blood _really_ isn’t a problem. We’re friends. At least, you agreed, so I thought-” he stopped speaking suddenly and he dropped his hands down to his side, leaving Wade feeling desolated as he asked, “Unless you take it back. I mean, you just avoided being chased down by the Avengers, so I get it if you don’t want the hassle of being around me-” 

 

{NO!} 

 

[TAKE THE OUT YOU’VE BEEN HANDED-]

 

“I want! I can’t die, so Iron Dick’s fancy cannons don’t scare me! We’re friends! YOU ALREADY OFFERED NO TAKE BACKSIES! I just thought you would be freaked out, it’s not every day you see a face that looks like picasso had a stroke and then someone combined his garbage painting with a rotten avocado and I didn’t want you to see-” 

 

He felt panicked and grabbed both of those gloves hands in his. The idea that Spidey would walk away from him now had Wade’s chest in a vice grip and he couldn’t bare it. 

 

“I really don’t think your face is as bad as you’re imagining,” Webs interrupted. He took his hands out of Wade’s and pulled up his own sleeve to reveal a huge scar along the side of his forearm. “Everyone has scars. Just because yours change doesn’t mean they’re worse than anyone else’s. They’re just less consistent. You’re more interesting than the rest of us.” He shrugged and then finished with, “Sorry if my old scars are too boring for you.” 

 

There was a long period of silence where Wade and his boxes took in what was said. 

 

The first to recover from the shock was White who promptly belted out, **[BULLSHIT.]**  

 

Then it was Yellow, who reacted with a quiet, {Marry him.} 

 

Wade came last and he had no idea what to say, but the warmth in his chest grew and he shot forward with a kiss on Spidey’s masked cheek. 

 

Yellow squealed like a five year old while White asked him, [ARE YOU INSANE-]

 

He immediately got punched in the face, but it wasn’t a hard enough punch to break anything and Wade grinned brightly with a newfound confidence. 

 

“You know,” Spidey began, “Maybe we need to have a conversation on boundaries. If you invade my space, you’ll get a broken bone. Simple.” His voice had gone high though, and Wade felt triumphant. 

 

{Victory shall be mine!}

 

[The amount of idiocy is starting to actually hurt-]

 

“So, if I don’t mind breaking a few bones, does that mean I can cop a feel? Cuz last time you sent me across a room and then apologized and the mixed signals totally give me whiplash. What’s a poor girl supposed to take away from _that-”_  

 

Spidey dropped in front of him so suddenly and closely that Wade _yelped_ and shoved himself backwards on now mostly functioning legs. “See? Personal space. It’s disorienting when someone invades it out of nowhere-” 

 

“No!” Wade denied, “You can invade my space! Invade it all you want! I have condoms-” 

 

{And lube!] 

 

[STOP OFFERING HIM THINGS-] 

 

“Oh my _god._ ” 

 

“-but we wouldn’t need them ‘cause I can’t carry diseases-” 

 

“We’re not going to have sex!” Spidey finally broke out, his voice strained and awkward. 

 

Wade deflated, but then perked up and claimed, “Well we don’t need sexy times for a sleepover! Do you want to stay the night Spideybabe?” 

 

The masked hero froze up and then his shoulders dropped and he exhaled like he was relieved as he said, “Sure, do you have a blanket?” 

 

“What kind of home doesn’t have blankets?” Wade asked as he went over to the bedroom cabinet. “I am the best hostess this side of the earth, I’ll have you know. I’ve got blankets on blankets and enough pancake ingredients to put iHop to _shame-”_  

 

He stopped talking when he looked at his bedroom mirror. There was a message written in… was that Wade’s lipstick? The horror! But the message read: _I hope you heal well. I left you some money for all the tacos you could need. I’m still sorry, and if it means anything, thank you. You’re the only one who’s ever done that for me._  

 

The message wasn’t signed, but Wade knew who it was from and the sight of a red drawing of a heart beneath all the words gave him a fleeting sense of hope that White tried to squash with the routine screeching of, [HE CUT OFF OUR FUCKING LEGS, YOU ABSOLUTE MORON.] 

 

Yellow was quiet along with Wade, and he expected the usually gleeful box to pipe up with shouts of love triangle, but instead he murmured, {But… we love them both.} 

 

Wade still wasn’t quite sure he was in love with Peter Parker. Obsessed, definitely. Hopeful that the guy was his one, yes. 

 

But even if Parker had kept him safe, _Spiderman_ was the one that _stayed_ with him while he healed. _Spiderman_ was the one that had outright said he didn’t care what Wade looked like and expected nothing from him but a friendship. _Spiderman_ was the one that held his face in his gloved hands and declared Wade as more interesting than the rest of the population for his abnormalities. Spidey was willing to stick around for an actual conversation, to deal with Wade’s crazy head on rather than running away to protect himself or his identity.

 

Wade was impressed with and in awe of everything Peter Parker did, but if he had fallen in love with anyone tonight, it was with Spidey… and that shook him to the core. It was too soon for him to be in love with anyone. It was insanity. But he couldn’t stop the fluttering in his stomach at the thought of Spidey even sleeping in his apartment where Wade could keep him safe and show him how grateful he was. 

 

{No… We love them _both.}_  

 

[What you _need_ to do is forget he exists and move on with your life, shitty as it may be-] 

 

{Wait, which one do you mean by him? You have a preference? Holy shit. You have a preference!} 

 

[I don’t have a fucking-] 

 

Wade had a preference. 

 

Parker hadn’t reacted to his face, but Wade hadn’t expected him to. 

 

Spidey had given him just the words he needed in that moment to calm down, like he knew instinctively how his mind worked. It was _everything._  

 

“Wade? Still in there?” 

 

“Yeah! Yes! Here, I’m here!” Wade shouted, stumbling out of the bedroom with no less than four blankets of varying levels of fluffiness and shoving them into his Spider’s arms. 

 

Spidey laughed and asked, “Are you aware that I only asked for one blanket? This seems,” he held out the bundle of blankets toward Wade, “excessive.” 

 

Wade protested, claiming that Spidey could get pneumonia in that skimpy spandex suit, a statement that made Spidey throw the ball of blankets at Wade’s face. 

 

He giggled as he threw the ball back and after an impromptu game of ‘throw the blankets’ Spidey finally settled down with a multi-colored fuzzy pastel unicorn blanket (Wade’s favorite), yawned, and muttered a quiet, “Thanks for... letting me stay here.” 

 

{He’s literally the cutest thing to ever cute in this universe.} 

 

[Cute is not applicable to him.] 

 

{GASP! YOUR PREFERENCE IS PETER? SINCE WHEN-}

 

Wade nodded, whispering, “No problem,” trying to not seem creepy as he watched the wallcrawler fall asleep. He wished he knew what the guy looked like, but Spidey had specified that the reason he chose Wade was because Wade was a _safe_ option and Wade didn’t want the independent hero to walk out now. He would rather never find out who he was, as long as he got to keep him. 

 

He sat on the floor at the end of his beat up couch trying to decide what to do. 

 

Spidey had joked about being his valentine and the day _was_ coming up. Maybe Wade could do something a little more considerate than two dollar tacos on a rooftop. Flowers. Did Spidey like flowers? Chocolates? But what if it was all too cliche and Spidey didn’t like it? What if Spidey preferred simple things? It wasn’t something Wade could decide without further questioning and it made him realize he didn’t really know Spidey well enough to have earned the right to love him. He had been focusing on Peter for months on end without realizing that Spidey was more likely to appreciate him. White was right, even if Peter protected him and didn’t frame him, he was manipulating them. It was adorable, but not at all the start of a healthy relationship. The question was whether or not Wade could even _function_ in a healthy relationship. He cast a glance at the masked hero and laughed softly to himself. A healthy relationship where he would have no idea what his partner actually looked like didn’t sound healthy at all. The reality was that Wade didn’t know how to make good decisions, he didn’t know what he _wanted._ White had blurry opinions, Yellow wanted both and Wade was falling helplessly for a hero so far out of his league it hurt and running back to a murderer who didn’t seem to want him back. 

 

Spiderman didn’t seem embarrassed of him, even suggesting they parade their friendship in front of the Avengers. If they became anything, Spidey would be _proud_ of it and the idea alone made Wade smile to himself, a smile that fell when Yellow got serious and asked, {Does that mean you can let go of Peter?} 

 

White’s laugh only deepened the sinking of Wade’s heart as he realized the answer was a resounding _no._  

 

He couldn’t give up the idea of taking on the world together. He couldn’t let go of the hope that they could stalk marks together and take turns showing each other new methods of torture. He couldn’t let go of the image of Peter Parker smiling at him between blood covered fingers or the feeling of him cradling Wade’s head in his lap as he apologized for what he did. 

 

Spiderman was tolerant of many things, as Wade found out recently, but he didn’t seem like he would be okay with a polyamorous relationship and to be perfectly honest if Spidey dated someone else Wade was halfway sure already he would hunt down the competition and force them to swallow their own chunks of skin as Wade flayed them alive. He had never learned to share. 

 

The fact that he couldn’t let go of his prison escapee meant he would lose Spidey eventually, whether it be due to a failed relationship or sheer jealousy on Wade’s part that drove the hero away from their tentative friendship. 

 

[As if he’d have any reason to date _you._ ] White muttered. 

 

{He seems okay with everything we are. Everything we do. What reason does he have _not to, White?_ } Yellow snapped. 

 

Either way, Wade hadn’t been in love since before Weapon X, and he was coming to the realization that the first person he’d loved since then wasn’t going to be a lasting part of his life. 

 

Silently, Wade raised a hand up to Spidey’s masked cheek and just let his thumb drag over Spidey’s cheek, a soft, gentle touch to settle his nerves as he sighed. Once his action garnered no visible reaction and he was sure Spidey was asleep, Wade sighed in disappointment and whispered, “I wish you would never leave.” 

 

Wade had never felt more like someone was _the one_ for him, but he also didn’t feel like he deserved him, or had any right to keep him when Wade couldn’t be the same level of good for him. 

 

Feeling rather dejected, Wade made his way back into his room to stare at the message on his mirror, failing still to realize who was beneath the mask, who happened to be wide awake under Wade’s blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS! I have returned and I present to you the sixth chapter. I hope you guys liked it and understood Wade's train of thought and emotions. He's sensitive and things often strike him in a way he himself didn't expect. The fact that he still believes the two to be separate people just amuses me as much as it depresses me, but we will carry on until the realization hits. This is a huge interaction chapter but I felt it was needed after the last one. 
> 
> Send me love, kudos, and above all: COMMENTS!!!! 
> 
> All the love, Katana.


	7. I'll Fight For The Death Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spiderman is called in for a meeting with the Avengers that doesn't go well when he decides to bring Deadpool with him.

“Deadpool.” 

 

Wade’s forehead scrunched up and he kept his eyes shut. It didn’t _sound_ like either of his boxes but Yellow went through a ‘voice’ phase where he tried different inflections and accents and Wade was still too sleepy to deal with him. 

 

“Wade, wake up.” 

 

He felt a small tap on his shoulder and turned over, convincing himself he had imagined it and mumbling, “Fuck off, Yellow,” to himself. 

 

There was a soft laugh and Wade slit one eye open to peak at his surroundings because that was _most definitely not Yellow._

 

{Yeah, no _shit!_ But OMFG WAKING UP TO THAT VOICE IS HEAVEN-} 

 

[It is too fucking early. Whatever time it is, it’s still too early. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.] 

 

White was always cranky when they didn’t sleep enough, and since Yellow made too much noise on a daily basis for Wade to sleep, White would eventually give up and say hateful things to make them depressed just so that Wade could kill himself and they could get some peace and quiet. He didn’t do it to be _mean,_ he just knew that sometimes they needed to die to reboot properly. It was sweet, in a disturbing way. Wade had learned to appreciate it and speed the process along by just killing himself on a whim every so often so that White wouldn’t have to be any worse than usual. 

 

He was surprised to see Spidey standing at the side of his bed, one spandex dressed hand still hovering over Wade’s shoulder as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch him. 

 

{Oh, he can touch us, all right-} 

 

[Do NOT encourage physical contact with a crazy costumed freak-] 

 

Wade snorted tiredly. 

 

{WE are a crazy costumed freak-} 

 

“Not in the mornings,” Wade denied. And then he blinked and his eyes opened wide. 

 

Spidey was still there, he hadn’t moved or run. He was looking at Wade who was laying in bed maskless and _still_ not flinching away. So it hadn’t been a dream. Spidey really didn’t care. Wade could only hope that his scars seemed agitated instead of giving away the rush of blood in his cheeks. 

 

Spidey’s cheekbones struck again and the hero lifted a leg to lightly nudge Wade’s side. “Come on. Get up, we have a meeting to get to.” 

 

{OH! Is he inviting us on a business trip? How sweet! We haven’t even _packed,_ this is why I keep saying we need a go bag! Now we’re going to keep him waiting and what if he leaves without us-} 

 

[He’s not a businessman.] 

 

{And how would _you_ know?} Yellow asked, voice loaded with doubt. 

 

[I’m Jesus.] 

 

Wade put a hand over his mouth and tried to keep himself from laughing. Then he really took in what was said and his eyes snapped back up to the whites of Spidey’s mask and he blinked again. 

 

“Meeting? What do you mean meeting? Like a discussion meeting of our Valentine’s Day plans? Because I was _going_ to make it a surprise and you can totes trust me, baby boy, I’ll make it pretty, we don’t need to have a _meeting-”_  

 

Spidey ignored his spiel and handed him his phone without another word. 

 

The phone was sleek, black, and obviously new. But Wade didn’t care about that. What he cared about was the message open on the screen. 

 

 **_Stark:_ ** _Meeting at the new base in 45. Be there, Spiderboy. All hands on deck._

 

{Rude! Slice and dice him!} 

 

[The sad thing is, he would probably like that.] 

 

{Wait, what? No? Why would Stark _like_ being sliced and diced?} 

 

[Not _Stark, you idiot-_ ]

 

Wade had to read the brief message three times before he could think of what to say, and when he finally thought of something it was, “Wow. Spiderboy? Bit rude of him to demand you show up so early and then call you a kid-” 

 

Spidey snatched his phone back and shrugged. “Not as bad as it used to be. He called me underoos once and I had to _not_ punch him because Captain America was there, so. And it’s one in the afternoon, Wade. It’s not early.” 

 

{We should punch Tin Can where it _really_ hurts-} 

 

[Where? His whiskey bottles?]

 

Wade sunk his head back into his old, abused pillow and made a wounded noise. “It’s early if I’m still tired.” 

 

The tip of Spidey’s boot nudged his side again, harder, and Wade started laughing. “That’s not how time works.” 

 

{Yes, it is.} 

 

[No, it’s not-]

 

“It works that way for me-” 

 

Spidey nudged one final time and interrupted him, “I don’t care if it’s too early for you. I waited a little while and we’re already late-” 

 

{Excuse _moi?_ } 

 

[He’s not saying what I think he’s saying. He can’t expect us to sit with _him_ in a meeting about-] 

 

 _“We?”_ Wade couldn’t help asking. _“You_ are late. Don’t get me wrong, love muffin, I’m _thrilled_ you woke me up before leaving like a clandestine lover-” 

 

Spidey let out an undignified squeak of protest and Wade grinned before finishing off with, “But I don’t see what this has to do with _me-”_  

 

There was no patient nudge this time. Instead, strong arms wrapped around his middle and Wade was promptly _hefted onto Spidey’s right shoulder._  

 

{Dear. Earth. Fucking. God.} 

 

[Why.] 

 

{That was _so hot-_ } 

 

Wade felt the air rush out of him and then- 

 

“Oh. Oh wow, I got hard fast. WAIT! I NEED TO PUT ON MY MASK.” 

 

And his suit, but more importantly his mask. 

 

Spidey dropped him on his own bed like a sack of potatoes and Wade _would_ have complained, except he’d already broken the bed rails the previous month in a fit of half-asleep rage. He was barely getting himself up to reach for his mask and suit when Spidey beat him to it, walking over to his closet and digging through his many frilly outfits to find Wade’s most common outfit of choice. He paused as he noticed Wade just watching him from the mattress and then he looked back into the closet and asked, “What do you want to wear?” 

 

{Oh. Oh, he’s so fucking _precious, lock that shit down, I want a ring and wedding bells, do YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I’M SAYING!?_ } 

 

White’s voice was just a quiet whisper, the kind of whisper people made when they saw a crazy person taking a shit in the middle of the street and had to express their shock but also didn’t want to draw attention to themselves as they said, [What the fuck.] 

 

Wade bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling like a teenage girl and instead flashed a cheeky grin and posed like a pinup model in bed, chest popping out obscenely as he asked, “What do you want to see me in?” 

 

Instead of laughing like Wade expected him to, Spidey picked Wade’s modified Deadpool suit, the one that had a cape, leather bound metal plates around the majority of the chest and waist area to hide his grenades and switchblades, bright red chiffon sleeves and metal wrist cuffs that had two small protruding blades that popped out over his palms, a long dropping hood in dark gray beat up leather, black leather boots that rose up to his thighs and were tightened with blood red satin straps, each with a slight heel and several hiding spots for small knives, an assassin’s creed belt that rested just over his hips, and finally, two black leather straps with holsters for his guns to rest on the edges of his ribcage and his babies to stay on his back. 

 

“This one.” He sounded completely serious. 

 

Wade stared at him, Spidey stared back. 

 

{Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him! KISS HIM!} 

 

[The last time he tried, he got PUNCHED IN THE FACE-] 

 

“You want me,” Wade started, perplexed, “To walk into the Avengers’ new compound, armed to the nines in my most special unaliving outfit, for a meeting I was not invited to?” He had to ask, just to be sure. 

 

Spidey’s mask did not hide how widely he was grinning beneath it as he smugly replied, “They _did_ say ‘all hands on deck.’ They can’t be angry if I bring my _immortal_ _best friend and valentine_ to the party, now can they?” 

 

Warmth rushed up Wade’s spine and he stripped his pajamas off _immediately_ to get into his chosen outfit, an action which had Spidey’s hands practically flying up to cover his already masked face in an attempt to keep his eyes chaste. 

 

{So cute. I want to _eat him._ } 

 

[You want to eat everything.] 

 

{Lies! I’m a growing boy! Don’t judge me!} 

 

[How much more do you _want to fucking grow?_ ] 

 

“You could have _warned_ me you weren’t wearing underwear!” 

 

Wade cackled loudly and Spidey blindly swung at him, a swing that Wade avoided by dancing around the room as he buttoned up the loose red chiffon shirt that went first and then shoved on the vest with all the chest plates on it. “Say, Spidey? A little help here?” 

 

Spidey slowly removed his remaining hand from over his face and breathed out a heavy exhale of relief when he saw that Wade was at least semi-clothed now, shirt and loose chiffon pants covering his modesty. Wade had only worn the outfit once because it was so hard to put on by himself and he didn’t particularly want to invite anyone to dress him but Spidey was cool. He methodically laced up the back of the vest, routinely asking if it was too tight, and then he helped Wade put on his boots, tightened his red satin sashes to keep the leather in place, put his katana straps on and then hooked the hood and half-cape into place on each of the little ‘pop’ things so that they wouldn’t come off if he moved violently. Finally, Wade put the belt on, the one which came with all the leather plates around his hips, and he slid his guns and katanas into place. It was such a long process that Wade was sure they were going to miss the meeting entirely, but Spidey still stopped him on his way to the door and Wade was _shocked_ to see that Spidey had Wade’s mask in his hands. 

 

“I figured you wouldn’t want to leave without it,” he explained. 

 

White was speechless, and Yellow let out a stunned, {We _never_ forget our mask…} 

 

Wade must have taken too long to grab it, because Spidey turned the mask in his own hands, spread the thing open over Wade’s head and gently slid it over his face, careful not to open any sores or cause him pain as his eyes adjusted to being masked again. 

 

Wade swallowed rather loudly and muttered, “Thanks,” in a slightly choked voice. 

 

Spidey squeezed his shoulder in silent acknowledgement and then in a split second he wrapped one arm tightly around Wade’s waist and _took off into the fucking air._  

 

Wade was proud to admit that, yes, he screamed like a little girl because _who wouldn’t?_  

 

_{I want to GET AWAY! I want to FLYY AWAAY, YEAH, YEAHH, YEAHH-}_

 

[He’s going to drop us, just you fucking wait.] 

 

But Spidey just kept laughing, that same laugh like bells, and he didn’t drop them. 

 

The new compound was smaller than Wade had been expecting, but he should have guessed it would be. It seemed Tony-Stick-Up-His-Ass Stark had finally learned his lesson about making everything about his life extravagant and available to the public. It was a shame it took him so long. 

 

Once they dropped down in front of the oversized warehouse, Spidey carefully placed Wade on the ground, removing all of his limbs from where he’d latched onto Spidey like a scared child, all limbs except for Wade’s right arm which Spidey kept draped around his shoulders, his own right arm bent upward to interlace their gloved fingers. 

 

Wade almost pulled away to ask what he was doing, but Yellow lost his shit screaming and Spidey felt him shift awkwardly because his grip tightened and he said, “Don’t make this weird, I just need to get them off my back, okay?” 

 

{Okay. Okay? THAT IS MORE THAN OKAY-} 

 

[Say no, and just beat it. Learn to take the fucking out-] 

 

Instead of pulling away, Wade kept their fingers laced together and pulled Spidey closer to him, placing a masked kiss over his temple. “In case they’re already watching,” he claimed. 

 

Spidey snorted, tilted his head in thought, and then placed a masked kiss of his own on Wade’s cheek. Wade froze in place, all inner voices gone silent and then Spidey was walking forward as Wade draped over him mindlessly. 

 

When they entered, Spidey elbowed him in the side and Wade finally snapped out of his daze, heart in his throat as Yellow started singing _incoherently_ about the eight wonders of the world and White detailed exactly how much of a useless human being Wade was because of the way _natural selection_ worked. Wade wasn’t sure what people dying had to do with him so he focused on Spidey instead of everything else. 

 

“Wilson! How the _fuck_ did you find-” 

 

There was a canon aimed in their direction and Spidey didn’t even flinch. Before Wade could even blink, his webbed wonder was standing in front of him, facing the canon head on and Wade got to see the _look on Stark’s face_ as Spidey said, “Valentine’s Day is in a week and Wade said he was going to surprise me, so I decided to bring him along. He wanted an autograph from everyone,” and to Wade’s surprise he saw Spidey pull out a small notepad from his boot, “So I figured I’d get it for him, since none of you seem keen on giving him one when he asks nicely-” 

 

Stark’s eyes grew wide when Spidey stood in front of him, but now they were narrowed and judgemental as he seethingly asked, “Valentine’s Day? With _him?”_  

 

{OH HE’S THE SWEETEST ONE WE’VE EVER LOVED THAT’S SO THOUGHTFUL, I KNEW HE LOVED US BACK-} 

 

[How did he know you asked them for autographs before?] 

 

{He just knows us so well!} 

 

[Yeah, but how? He hasn’t spent enough time around you to know you as well as he does, why don’t you _care that he’s using you?_ ] 

 

Spidey stiffened and then he breathed out angrily and turned to Wade, sounding _oh so earnest_ as he said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t get this done for you, Wade. We can do something else. I’ll buy you tacos instead, I know it’s not the same, but you don’t need their autographs _anyway-”_  

 

“Wade. You’re calling a _murderer_ by his first name? He _kills_ people! You-” 

 

Spidey turned back toward Tin Can and interrupted him with a borderline volume 100, “And what do _you_ do, Stark!? Did you make sure _your_ canons weren’t lethal before you pointed them at Wade or do you think that just because he can come back, you can kill him for sport just to watch him bleed?” 

 

{He. Is. Defending. US! THIS IS SUCH A ROM-COM MOMENT-} 

 

[This is _not_ how romantic comedies work, Jesus, something got fucked in your brain didn’t it?]

 

Tony Stark’s face grew paler with every word and then Spidey walked toward him, one precise step behind another until his chest was right up against Stark’s palm, completely unafraid of death as he quietly mentioned, “Some people might call those sociopathic tendencies, Tony.” 

 

Finally, the rest of the broken crew came into the entrance hall to see what the commotion was. 

 

{I… oh.} Yellow grew sad all of a sudden. 

 

[Well. This is depressing.] It was rare for _White_ to find something so depressing that he didn’t feel the need to make it seem worse. 

 

Things had been difficult for all of the Avengers in the past few years and Wade was sad he had never really been allowed to help them. Not even for himself, but for them. Tony had never allowed Wade to tag along and many of their faces darkened when they saw him, not because they didn’t like him though that certainly didn’t help, but because the last time he’d been in the room with any of them, Tony had sent him away and then they lost three of their own, and a lot of their families had been taken hostage since their team was stretched too thin. Pepper’s body was never found, and Tony was now a full blown alcoholic by the look of him. Rumor had it she’d been pregnant at the time of her disappearance. As far as Wade knew, the Avengers weren’t a team for two years and had only banded together again within the last year or so to deal with the rising threat of new Hydra operations that politicians kept denying was real. Captain America looked like he’d aged ten years, Black Widow had let her hair grow out but Wade could tell the shade was darker-- freshly died-- so she’d grown gray hairs and decided to cover them, something she couldn’t manage for the bags under her eyes. She had lost weight too, it was obvious she still worked out but she probably wasn’t eating enough to maintain her regimen. Wade used to forget to eat as a teen too, he knew the signs. Bruce used to have a tinge of green to his skin whenever Wade was around but it looked like the wind had been taken out of the guy’s sails, like he didn’t have any anger left and the big guy had receded into a hole of loneliness. Hawkeye had been the only one that didn’t hate Wade at any point and to see the Avengers assembled without him felt like a punch to the gut. He was masked, but he still made eye contact with Natasha and, though her eyes did water, she kept a stoic face and kept her head up. It said a lot about how close she and Clint had been, that even the small reminders of him could crack her facade three years later. He supposed that was inevitable, since the Avengers were rarely seen in one place anymore. He figured they mostly communicated through encrypted emails. She probably hadn’t shared a room with any of them since the fallout and Wade, for the first time he could recall, felt sorry for her. As much as they’d all acted like a family once, the cracks in the structure had sent it crashing down and none of them had stayed to pick up the pieces.

 

{It’s like they’re all ghosts-} 

 

[You’d think three years would be long enough for them to get over it-] 

 

{Can you be less of an asshole just this once, like, seriously what the _hell_ \- they’re _grieving-_ } 

 

Stark was gritting his teeth as Steve asked what was going on. 

 

“He’s a _monster_ and I’m _perfectly within my rights-”_ he started off, aiming back for Wade and Spidey followed the canon just as Tony was gearing up to fire. Wade _growled_ and ran forward, but the captain yanked the man backwards at the last second, sending him off balance and letting the canon strike at one of the windows, leaving the building shaking and a hole in the window five times the size of Spidey’s body. 

 

“Tony! What is _wrong with you-”_  

 

Stark shook the Captain’s hands off of him and yelled, “Don’t fucking _touch me!_ ” His chest was heaving, he was shaking, his eyes were red and suspiciously wet, and then he took a look at the pain etched in Steve’s face and it was like all his anger evaporated and he just walked away from all of them with a look of utter resignation, whispering, “I need a drink,” as he made his way down the hallway with stumbling footsteps. 

 

The silence left in his absence was painful. It was like no one knew what to say or how to break the ice and then Wade had a thought. 

 

“Where’s Thor?” he asked, thoughtlessly. 

 

Everyone grimaced, with the exception of Spidey but even _his_ mask twitched oddly. 

 

“Nevermind then,” he mumbled awkwardly. 

 

{Tough crowd.} 

 

[Tough life.] 

 

Spidey took mercy on him and coughed, then replied diplomatically, “Thor has decided to spend some time with his family.” Wade grimaced then too, because everyone knew Thor’s family was a cesspool of drama and grudges so if he’d used _them_ as an excuse to avoid renewed meetings, it meant he had no interest in returning. Dick move, but Wade understood. 

 

Black Widow smiled mirthlessly and then she walked toward Wade and said, “Don’t mind Tony. He hasn’t learned to let go of his mistakes and he’d rather blame you for following his order than admit you could have made a difference.” 

 

{Ouch.} 

 

[I always liked her.] 

 

{Liar! You said we should shoot her that one time-} 

 

[Because she shot us first! Not because I didn’t like her-]

 

{Oh so it’s okay when _she_ does it, but when _Petey_ does it-} 

 

[He didn’t shoot us, HE CUT OFF OUR FUCKING LEGS!!!! And he kills _for fun,_ it’s _not the same-_ ] 

 

{ _WE_ KILL FOR FUN TOO! WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE-} 

 

Once upon a time, Natasha never would have thrown a teammate under the bus that way, but Wade supposed she no longer viewed Tony as a teammate. He wondered what Tony felt about the matter, or if he even realized the difference in her approach to him. 

 

Wade nodded, smiled with all of his teeth, knowing how wide it would look through his mask, and replied, “Yeah, well, that’s all fine and dandy but if he puts Spidey in the line of fire again, I’ll blow his head off, no hesitation.” 

 

Natasha blinked slowly, and Spidey took the opportunity to take Wade’s hand in his and his cheekbones rose as he looked up at Wade and said, “I’m okay, Wade,” he lifted Wade’s hand in his own and proceeded to do a little dramatic spin that was more for the other occupants of the room than it was for him, “See, not a scratch on me.” 

 

Wade tugged Spidey closer to him and wrapped his arms around the smaller’s waist as tightly as he could, not willing to express just how scared he’d felt the moment before the canon went off and the Captain interfered. The action seemed to take Webs off guard as he tensed being so close, but then he seemed to relax, slowly growing used to the contact and finally draping his own arms around Wade’s shoulders and whispering, “I’m really okay. Nothing happened. I’m fine.” 

 

{We should still set Stark on fire-} 

 

[You just don’t know jack shit about self-preservation, do you? It’s like you _want_ to take on people who might actually know how to destroy you-]

 

“Don’t put yourself in danger for me again, I can heal but you can’t-” 

 

Someone cleared their throat and Wade looked up from Spidey’s shoulder to see Captain America looking extremely uncomfortable, Natasha wearing a calculating expression, and Bruce looking a slight bit green for the first time since they’d entered the room. 

 

“Are you two…” Bruce couldn’t seem to finish his sentence, but his face looked like it was warring between disapproval and an attempt at diplomacy. 

 

Natasha didn’t allow the question to finish, probably noting just how tense Spiderman had become at the insinuation, and then she said, “Spiderman, may I speak to you in private?” 

 

{NO.} 

 

[YES, PLEASE TAKE HIM AWAY-] 

 

Wade clenched his fists and then Spidey replied, “You may not.” 

 

Natasha looked back and forth between them and Wade knew that even if she thought less of Tony for his behavior, it didn’t mean she held Deadpool in high regard, much less worthy of _Spiderman._ “I insist,” she declared. 

 

“And once again, I will politely decline your offer.” 

 

{THE SASS IS REAL-} 

 

[He’s picking a fight with the Avengers. _WHY_ is he picking a fight with the Avengers?]

 

Deadpool snorted and that had been the _wrong thing to do_ because her eyes narrowed in his direction and then she looked back at Spidey and said, “Very well. You were gone for a long time. Presumed dead, even. And soon after you show up again, you’re allied with a known mercenary. If he’s hurting you-” 

 

Deadpool started to hiss, “I would fucking _never-”_  

 

But Spidey let out a bark of laughter and then, his mask widened with a huge, smug grin, and he replied, “No offense Natasha, but _Wade_ would never hurt me. If anything,” he took a second to look at Wade instead of the other occupants of the room, “He would die before he let anything happen to me.” 

 

{YESSS, BABY, YOU TELL HIM-} 

 

[You’re not even going to question how he knows that, are you? The warning signs are all there, landmines and red flags and you’re just going to pretend they don’t exist-] 

 

Captain America himself spoke up then and said, “It wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice, if he knows he’s coming back-” 

 

Spidey evidently grew sick of arguing with them, and informed them, “If I went missing again, I know he would at least look for me. That’s more than can be said for anyone else in this room.” 

 

“We searched-” Steve protested, but Spidey snapped back at him. 

 

“Did you? Did you, really? Because as far as I could tell you were busy having a cute little domestic spat with your resident alcoholic-” 

 

Bruce stepped in and finally shouted, green tinges shifting over his skin in waves that he could barely keep under control as he shouted, “Enough! That’s enough!” He took in several sharp breaths before the tinge faded to a lighter green and then he looked at Webs with a lost look in his eyes. “What happened to you?” 

 

Spidey looked away and then said, “You weren’t the only ones fighting a war, Bruce. The difference is that I was fighting alone because no one stuck by me, no one came looking for me, and I had to fight to survive. I made it out of hell in one piece and I came back to a bunch of people treating me like a child.” 

 

Wade hung on every word Spidey said and with each word a piece of his heart burned and withered away for the hero. He’d been left alone to fight and Wade would find everyone who had ever made him suffer and drown them, resuscitate them, and then drown them again as many times as they could handle before their hearts gave out entirely under crushed ribs. He’d just have to find out who those people were. 

 

{Another massacre!? Ooooooh! Can we go all out this time? Grenade launcher, anyone?} 

 

[It’s like you never played connect the dots as a kid. What kind of shitty elementary school doesn’t have connect the dots-] 

 

“We lost people,” Natasha began. “A lot of people-” 

 

“Yeah? Well, I lost people too. And I didn’t come here to play twenty one questions or a game of ‘whose life has sucked more in the past four years.’ Tell us what the meeting was about and we’ll be on our way.” 

 

Natasha didn’t speak up again. It was like she was trying to read Webs and couldn’t get anything from his body language. She didn’t look frightened or surprised, but Wade could read small twitches of desperation in her body, like she had cared for the hero once and was reluctant to let go of one more person in her life. Then she glanced at Deadpool and her eyes screamed resentment bordering on hatred. She thought Deadpool was a bad influence. She thought that _Deadpool_ was the one steering Spidey away from them when he’d been the one minding his own business and Spidey was the one that came looking for him. 

 

Bruce also said nothing, taking slow and tactful steps towards the room Stark had disappeared into as the green tinge of his skin grew darker again. 

 

{Good riddance! Adios! Get the fuck gone!} 

 

[At least if he blew up and accidentally killed someone, we could fucking _leave._ ]

 

Steve tried to smile, but it was forced and it _showed._ “S.H.I.E.L.D. is an international law enforcement agency and as such, the attack yesterday has been made a top priority.” The moment S.H.I.E.L.D. was mentioned, Spidey’s hand gripped Wade’s tight and Wade knew it was because he didn’t want anyone to realize Wade had been responsible, but the movement was a mistake because Black Widow narrowed her eyes at it. Captain America continued speaking, oblivious, “Evidently, the slow response of the police force and lack of communication means that they are not equipped to handle a case of this magnitude. The Avengers have been tasked with recruiting more members capable of subduing a prolific serial killer with the ability of subduing an entire compound of trained men and women on his own unscathed. We are currently hosting negotiations with the X-men and recruiting young mutants, but due to the political turmoil, people are hesitant to come forward-” 

 

Wade grew angry at the idea, “Your plan is to send _children_ after a known _serial killer?_ ” 

 

{Petey-pie wouldn’t hurt a kid!} 

 

[He’d kill them if they attacked him.] 

 

The captain shook his head, “Peter Parker has shown no aggression toward the youth or third parties-” 

 

“Then why waste resources looking for him at all?” Spidey asked. 

 

The captain froze up and then asked, “Do you believe his actions were justified?” 

 

Spidey’s mask didn’t move, but Wade could _feel_ him glaring. “No. But none of _your_ hands are clean, and your last resort is to train _kids_ to do your dirty work-” 

 

“Our last resort,” Steve interrupted, “Is to find _willing_ participants of _legal_ age to train.” 

 

“Then what exactly do you need us for, Captain?” Spidey didn’t even sound angry anymore, just completely uninterested. 

 

Steve seemed to be at a loss for words and Natasha chimed in with, “You and Daredevil both have enhanced senses. It would be beneficial for everyone involved if you both joined the team.” 

 

“Daredevil,” Spidey repeated. Wade felt his stomach sinking. Always left out of the party. 

 

{Always chosen last.} 

 

[Chosen? Ha, you’re not even on the playing field.] 

 

“Yes,” she confirmed, eyes meeting the whites of Wade’s mask beneath his hood. “Daredevil.” 

 

However accepting she’d seemed earlier, the moment Deadpool showed any interest in Spidey his chances of being welcomed died and that didn’t surprise him. He never got to have what he wanted. 

 

Spidey nodded, and for a second Wade felt a void swallowing his heart as relief spread over Black Widow and Captain America’s faces. And then Spidey said, “That’s very kind of you to offer, but I’m not interested in becoming an Avenger. Should I encounter Peter Parker on patrol with Deadpool, we’ll deal with the matter as we see fit, but I’m not interested in slowing down my own workload to join a dysfunctional team when I have a team of my own,” he lifted Wade’s leather clad hand in his own and spoke over their protests with a loud, “Good luck catching him, we’ll see our way out,” and tugged Wade toward the exit. 

 

[This is a fucking long con. I know you don’t see it, but _none of it is real._ ]

 

Yellow stood silent for about three seconds and then he piped up with a cheerful, {I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve never felt more like a sexy bitch than I do right now! Like, that was so badass, he totally loves us. _So this is love, so this is love… so this is the miracle… that I’ve been dreaming oooooof, so this is…. Loooooooooove.}_

 

Wade grinned. He had more questions than answers, and he knew that a lot of the intimacy had just been for show, but Spidey’s reactions to him, the small bits where he relaxed in his hold and the way he’d put himself in danger for Wade, a literal _immortal,_ those couldn’t be faked. Actions spoke louder than words, and his pretty little webhead had just walked out on the _Avengers_ to team up with _Deadpool_ instead. All while making no promises to actually apprehend Peter Parker. Wade would have to ask about some of the things mentioned, but it was hard not to smile like a complete madman when the love of your life risked the wrath of the world’s best known heroes just to be around you. 

 

And then Webs turned toward him and asked him a question that made his bubble of happiness and good feeling burst. 

 

“Eventually, this whole thing is going to break out into a war. The Avengers will be on one side and your little crush will be on the other.” He looked up at Wade and gripped his hand tight enough for it to hurt, and for the small blade to pop out and graze Spidey’s spandex covered knuckles. “Which side will you be on, Wade?” 

 

{The right one!} 

 

[The wrong one. Like you always are.] 

 

Wade didn’t know. He couldn’t hurt Peter Parker. But Spidey was right when he said that Wade would die before hurting him too. Then again, Webs… Webs didn’t seem keen on being on the Avengers’ side. Wade had a gut feeling about what Spidey wanted to hear, and he went with it, hoping and praying it was the right answer because it was _true_. 

 

“I’ll fight for the Death Angel.” 

 

It sounded like a confession. He felt heavy saying it, like it was something he’d known long before he’d been forced to think about it properly. 

  
When Spidey quietly replied, “Good,” before taking off in the direction of Deadpool’s apartment again, Wade wasn’t sure if he should feel surprised or vindicated. He had the nagging suspicion that Spiderman and Peter Parker knew each other, and he couldn’t help wondering if maybe he _didn’t have to lose either of them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOO BOY a lot happens in this chapter, like I know it's basically just split in between three scenes but it's a lot longer than what I usually manage to write in a day, so I'm freaking proud of it. People asked what kind of backstory happened for the Avengers in this universe and, it sort of? matches with what happened to a lot of them in the movies except Spiderman wasn't an integral part of their team and disappeared just before things went to shit, and things went HORRIBLY WRONG. You know the whole theory that if you go into the past and crush a fly, it can drastically alter the future? Well, you take one super out of the team and anything they saved or helped with or affected in some small way goes completely differently. The Avengers are not exactly the definition of a team here. Anyway, I know it mostly focused on the 'meeting' but I feel like Wade having a suspicion of a connection between Parker and Spidey is PROGRESS. Also, I didn't have time to edit so my bad if there are mistakes, I'll get to it later in the week. 
> 
> If you guys were waiting for an Update on Highway to Hell, it was updated early on Sunday and will be updated again on Monday of next week. For everyone anxiously awaiting the next installment of The Inverse, it will be up and running tomorrow night. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys like this chapter. Let me know what you think and as always, please flood me with COMMENTS! 
> 
> All the love, Katana.


	8. Perfectly Familiar Sharp Teeth.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spidey does a lot of things that should have clued Wade in, but Wade just falls a little harder for him with each action and doesn't THINK about any of them. Until the end.

For the following week, Wade’s attention was increasingly split between the two people he wanted the most. 

 

Spidey had just casually decided to invite himself to live in Wade’s apartment which Wade was ecstatic about, but didn’t understand and the constant interaction with the super put White on edge. So much so that he wouldn’t let Wade _sleep._  

 

He tried to deal with it by just rewatching news reports and reading the daily articles about the rising body count of criminals in the area and trying to pinpoint which deaths he could label as Parker’s and which ones were due to gang affiliations or copycat murderers. He could tell the difference, as he still had access to the police records from his original search for Parker and several of the new bodies had a word carved into the victim’s arms. It totaled up to eight bodies since the break out, excluding Jameson. Strung together, the bodies all left in different areas of the state, read: _I know you’re watching me. Come find me._  

 

It was not a message for the cops, and while Wade briefly contemplated that it might be a luring message for S.H.I.E.L.D., Parker had claimed to have avoided them up until they decided to interfere with Deadpool, so evidently the message was meant for _him._ The police didn’t get all the files until recently, given that the bodies were dropped in different counties and no longer in people’s homes. Of course they wouldn’t assume it was Parker at first. It didn’t follow his usual M.O. But the people killed were still hardened criminals, still kept out of the system with their money and reputation, and evidence of their indiscretions was still left either on their bodies or in the vicinity of the crime scenes. It was Peter Parker, but the police didn’t want people to know about the deaths because of the recent attack on the nearest S.H.I.E.L.D. compound. If Peter Parker was believed intelligent enough to obliterate a compound on his own, the police wouldn’t want to announce that he was back to focusing on the guilty in the general public. They were already bordering on mass hysteria. Wade had seen a group in Times Square with black t-shirts and angel wings spray painted across the back of their attire, getting glares from grieving people around them as they smiled. Their sinister smiles didn’t compare to the real thing. They weren’t as pretty, they weren’t as devious, they weren’t as sharp. It was a tad disrespectful to show up in angel t-shirts when a candle light vigil for the fallen S.H.I.E.L.D. agents was being held, but Wade _grinned_ at the sight. 

 

Eventually though, even that bit of entertainment wasn’t enough to keep him feeling happy because after four nights White was still wrecking havoc in his brain and Wade was just so fucking tired. Sleep deprivation couldn’t kill him, but it could make him fucking miserable and White was determined to keep him as miserable as humanly possible so that he might sabotage the growing friendship between him and Spidey. 

 

On day six, Spidey came home at around three in the morning and-- upon seeing that Wade was still awake-- he sighed and grabbed Wade’s wrist, dragging him toward the couch to sit as Spidey crossed his legs and faced him as he would when he was _really_ paying attention to what Wade had to say instead of tuning him out. 

 

“Tell me what’s wrong.” He did not let go of Wade’s wrist or lighten up on his hold. 

 

{White’s a crock of shit-} 

 

[If you got him to fuck off you could finally get some sleep-] 

 

{We could get some sleep _if YOU fucked off-_ }

 

Wade made an effort to keep his shoulders in place to not give away what was wrong and replied, “Wrong? Nothing. Zip. Nada! Life is all smooth sails and sweet lemons, mon amour-” 

 

Before Wade could speak another word, Spidey let go of his wrist and fucking _straddled him,_ one spandex gloved hand slipping under his mask with lightning speed and gripping his jaw, asking softly, “Why are you lying to me, Wade?” 

 

{Holy porn addicted deities, this is all we’ve ever wanted in life-} 

 

[GET HIM OUT I’M FUCKING SICK OF THIS-] 

 

Wade, stunned, sat there for a moment completely unable to speak, unsure if he was allowed to move, and Spidey tilted his head in thought before sweetly saying, “I won’t judge you, but you’ve been scaring me lately and I-” 

 

“Scaring you!? Baby boy, I am _so sorry,_ I didn’t- I just- I can’t sleep and I’ve been _trying-”_  

 

[EVERYTHING HE SAYS IS A FUCKING LIE!] 

 

{Oh. My. Fucking. Fuck. He is literally the sweetest thing, we need to give him the world, how does someone so _precious even exist?_ } 

 

[You know what? Fuck both of you. Fuck. You. When we all die, I’m going to spend the rest of our time in hell letting you both know what pieces of human excrement you are-] 

 

{BITCH, WITH YOU KEEPING US AWAKE WE’RE ALREADY THERE-} 

 

“Is it the voices?” Spidey asked, voice not quite as sweet, tone a bit unreadable. 

 

Wade blinked a couple times and looked away a bit awkwardly. He decided to just cross his arms over his chest as he didn’t know what else to do with his hands and he laughed bitterly. “Guess there’s really no hope in making you believe they’re turtles then?” 

 

Spidey snickered at the reminder of the imaginary ‘turtles’ and shook his head. “Guess not.” 

 

Letting his eyes fall shut, Wade leaned back against the couch and just sighed heavily, not quite sure how to explain what was wrong with him to someone like Spidey who had no such mental illnesses or compulsions. “I… I would just kill myself to get some rest if I was alone but I didn’t- I didn’t want you to come in here see me with a hole through my head, y’know? It would be enough to turn anyone’s stomach-” 

 

{DON’T TELL HIM HOW FUCKED UP WE ARE, WE’RE GOING TO LOSE HIM-} 

 

[Oh god. Oh god, you’re giving him ideas, why would you do this, you fucking moronic piece of granite-] 

 

Quickly, Spidey got up and just looked down at him before slowly and deliberately asking, “You think I would judge you for needing to sleep…? Why would you assume-” 

 

Wade stared up in disbelief as his brain tried to come up with a response but instead it shut down when Spidey abruptly took hold of his wrist again and tugged him toward the bathroom. 

 

“Uh, Spidey, not that I’m complaining, but-” 

 

{ARE WE GOING TO MAKE LOVE? OH, IIIII WANT TO FALL IN LOVE-} 

 

[That’s not how the song goes, stupid.] 

 

{SO?} 

 

Webs ignored his unfinished question and came to a stop at the foot of the bathtub, gesturing for Wade to get in. At this point, Wade was so tired he really didn't feel like questioning the request or putting up a fight. He just shrugged and laid down to the sound of White losing his shit and Yellow cheering about sexy times. 

 

“Take off your suit.” 

 

Everything in his brain came to a screeching halt, including White, who Wade could feel growing curious, and Wade opened his mouth to ask just what the command meant, but Spidey spoke up before he could. 

 

“We’re not going to fuck, Wade. I just think you’d rather not get bloodstains on your suit. And your mask too. And I unfortunately already saw your genitals so at this point, it’s not the time for false modesty.” 

 

{Oh. He’s… okay with it.} 

 

[Why would he care about the suit, that’s none of his business, it doesn’t make any _sense-_ ] 

 

Wade stared up for a bit longer than he knew was socially acceptable and he could almost see little hearts forming around the hero in his bathroom as comprehension dawned on him. No one he knew was okay with, much less encouraging, about his suicidal needs from time to time and it had always been something he turned to because he just couldn’t bear his own pain anymore, but Spiderman wasn’t just telling him it was okay and that he wouldn’t judge him, he was _making sure Wade went about it in a way that wouldn’t burden him later on._ The bathtub was the cleanest place to do it, the one that required the least scrubbing and burning of drenched sheets, and Spidey was making sure Wade was still coherent enough to remove his suit and Wade just… 

 

{Do you think he’s the kind of person who would like an expensive diamond ring or should we go with something simple? Would he want us to wear a dress or should we just get married in our suits-} 

 

[Don’t marry this LUNATIC-] 

 

Wade felt an intense rush of affection in his fucking _veins_ and his hands shook as he took off his costume and carefully slipped off his mask, staring at the shower tiles in embarrassment because the entire thing felt so _intimate_ even though it was such a _ridiculous_ scenario. 

 

Spidey knelt down beside the tub and held Wade’s left hand over his chest, handing him the gun he kept taped under the sink-- Wade had to smile shakily at the knowledge that Webs had cased his apartment and knew where his weapons were-- and promising, “I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

 

Wade felt like crying he was just so fucking _tired-_

 

[Wait-] 

 

{FUCK YOU, WE NEED THIS-} 

 

[He handed you the gun, why did he hand you the gun-] 

 

Wade lifted the gun to his temple and breathed in and out with hesitation, smiling when Spidey squeezed his hand in reassurance. He couldn’t really look at him because this was something he did when he was desperate, something he’d never done in front of another person before because suicide just wasn’t something he liked sharing with anyone. He could shoot himself in front of people, but not in a way that would actually kill him. That was something he did alone in the relative safety of his own apartment where he could feel shame in peace. To have Spidey there, holding his hand and basically showing him that is wasn’t something he had to be ashamed of was too much. 

 

{He’s the light of our life, the best fucking thing-} 

 

[He’s not killing you himself, why is he not-] 

 

Wade pulled the trigger and his last thought before the lights went out was, _why would Spidey want to kill me himself?_  

 

When he came to, there was no blood on the walls and a gloved hand was still entwined with his. 

 

“Feeling any better?” 

 

Wade started giggling madly and once he started he just couldn’t seem to stop and the entire time Spidey just held his hand. Once he calmed down, he grinned widely and tackled Spidey into a hug that he for once didn’t flinch or freeze from. “Did you clean my blood?” 

 

Spidey shrugged and replied, “I know a lot more about waking up to bloodstains than you probably realize.” 

 

With that concerning statement, Webs sauntered out of the bathroom, glancing back at Wade one last time before stepping into the living room. 

 

[HA FUCKING HA. That was hilarious. That was actually dark humor and you don’t get it goddammit why am I surrounded by idiots-] 

 

{Are you serious? We _just_ got a break and you’re at it _again?_ It’s always your fault, why can’t you just give us some damn peace-} 

 

[Give _you_ peace? You! _I’M_ the one that has to see you both throw your fucking life away-] 

 

Wade sat in the tub for a little while longer, thinking over the way Spidey looked after him and he felt like his heart was going to do that thing like the grinch’s heart where it swelled up three sizes and made him look like a green candy apple without the caramel. 

 

His mind kept looping around in circles now that he could finally _think_ and Peter’s message to him played over and over in his head. _I know you’re watching me. Come find me._  

 

Wade wanted to, but he knew he wasn’t ready to. He wanted as much time with Spidey as he could before a war broke out because he had no confirmation that they knew each other and the chances that they would _both_ want him were slim to none and the truth was that after today, no one could ever compare to Spiderman in his heart. He held Wade’s hand as he shot himself and proceeded to clean up Wade’s blood as he healed so that Wade wouldn’t have to. 

 

He could feel a soft smile breaking out on his face and he tried to smother it but Yellow started singing the original french version of _La Vie En Rose_ and Wade found himself humming along. 

 

As had become the norm, Wade spent the afternoon cooking dinner and watching anime episodes or Golden Girl reruns with Spidey and it was so domestic he wanted to scream childishly. 

 

Presumably, Spidey was out on patrol whenever he was out of the apartment, though he never seemed short on funds and offered twice to pay for their takeout orders so Wade wondered if he did something for a living or if he had rich parents. Maybe Spidey was a rich orphan like Batman? 

 

Whatever the case was, it didn’t really matter. He could find out more eventually. What mattered was preparing everything for the following night to give Spidey the best Valentine’s of his fucking life. 

 

It took _hours_ for Wade to prepare, but when he went home he caught Spidey just before the hero could go off to patrol and asked if he could tag along. That familiar stretch on his mask happened and he nodded once before launching them both in the air to another _scream_ from Wade because seriously _a little fucking warning would be nice-_  

 

 _{_ _What's gonna make you faaaaaall IN LOOVE! I know you got your waaall wrapped ALL THE WAY AROUND YOUR HEART, don't have to be scared at aaaall, OH, MY LOOOOOVE but you can't FLY unless you let your, you can't FLY unless YOU LET YOURSELF FAALL-}_

 

[Fucking _christ._ That’s it. This is the _last straw._ I DEMAND we start going to church every Sunday. You are in DESPERATE need of JESUS-] 

 

_{YEAH YOU CAN’T FLY UNLESS YOU LET YOURSELF FAAALL-}_

 

Wade tried his best not to sing along, because giving in to what Yellow wanted was something he did a little too often and White was starting to hold a grudge. White was the greatest nonbeliever among the three of them and if _he_ was suggesting church, he was more than a little offended. Yellow kept up a string of ‘I will catch you if you fall’ which had White seething and Wade pleased because White had made life hell the past few days and there were _consequences,_ even if those consequences just involved old Bieber songs. 

 

Patrol started off relatively uneventful. Webs eventually dropped them off in the middle of the Bronx before taking off swinging again and going as fast as he could, constantly looking behind him and breathlessly laughing as it became more and more obvious that Wade could in fact keep up with him. 

 

This all came to a screeching halt when they heard shouts from an alleyway behind a local recreation building. 

 

Spidey stopped running and climbed the side of the building effortlessly and Wade rounded the corner instead. He peeked behind the wall and the sounds of muffled cries reached his ears before he realized what he was looking at. 

 

“Please, stop, _please-”_  

 

The girl couldn’t have been older than nineteen, but Wade had a feeling she wasn’t even of age and a spark of _rage_ traced its way up his spine. He was moving before he could think about it, and distantly, he could hear a familiar voice yelling, _“No!”_ but it was too late. 

 

The shot rang out, a body dropped, and a poor exposed girl stared at the headless corpse as it fell and slid down along her body to the ground. Her eyes were wide and terrified and the desperate tears she’d been crying slowed into a silent stream on either side of her ashen face as she slowly turned her head to look in the direction the bullet came from. 

 

She flinched as Deadpool took a step toward her and Wade stopped in his tracks. He hadn’t meant to scare her. He’d meant to help. She trembled as she covered herself with the torn remains of her clothing and started her walk in the opposite direction with limping steps. Wade looked after her as she walked away, sad that apparently rape and murder were so rampant in her community that she didn’t run from a corpse or even scream for someone to call the police during either event because she knew no one would help her. 

 

Spidey dropped down from the rooftop over the second floor and landed in a crouched position, immediately heading for the corpse. Wade felt his heart sinking. 

 

“Spidey, I- I didn’t mean to… I just saw it and I couldn’t let him get away scot free. Guys like that never lose in court and I-” 

 

He stopped speaking when he realized Webs wasn’t listening to him, instead lifting the body onto his shoulders. 

 

{Is he mad…? Why would you do that! It was his one rule! We’re not supposed to do this when he’s masked and you fucked up, how _could you ruin this, it’s Valentine’s Day, you bastard!}_  

 

[Fuck. You broke his rules, fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ _you idiot!! Do you have any idea what will happen now that he’s displeased-_ ] 

 

{He’s going to _leave us-_ } 

 

[What!? NO, YOU DUMBASS, THAT’S THE BEST CASE SCENARIO-]

 

Wade swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat and tried to reach for Spidey’s shoulder but the guy turned to him and said, “The police will be on their way, we have to fucking _leave. Right. Now.”_  

 

Wade blinked from behind his mask as Spidey took off with the body in his arms and then he broke into a chase. 

 

{Does that mean he’s not mad? I mean, maybe scared but not mad?} 

 

Yellow sounded hopeful, but White sounded _infuriated_ when he spoke. 

 

[You chunks of _SWINE!_ He left us behind! This is the _perfect_ opportunity to turn tail and get to another safehouse, preferably OUT OF STATE! In ANOTHER FUCKING COUNTRY EVEN! Why are you _WASTING YOUR LIFE-_ ] 

 

If they were lucky, no one would have spotted Spidey and connected him to the blood spatter at all. It wasn’t a murder case if there was no body. And even if they did find evidence the guy was dead, the girl only saw Deadpool. A girl in a low income area, so tarnished by previous experiences that she’d given up on screaming and just pleaded with her attacker, she wouldn’t report it to the police. She definitely wouldn’t do what people around the area would consider snitching on the person who stopped it, even if it was in a way she’d never wanted to see up close. Wade recognized the dead look in her eyes from his own upbringing and he knew she would rather be killed than ever step foot in a police station. Hopefully, Spidey would be in the clear. Wade just didn’t understand why on _earth_ the super would take the body through back alleys and the safety of rooftops. When Spidey finally stopped, they were under the Kingsbridge overpass, cars zooming above them as Webs held onto one of the beams keeping the bridge up and dangled the headless body by one arm over the Hudson. It didn’t make a loud splash upon impact. The bridge was pretty low to begin with, but Spidey stayed and sat on the rusted metal beneath the bridge for a while, watching the body disappear and then seeming perfectly content to watch the river itself in the quiet. 

 

{TALK TO HIM!!!} 

 

“What am I supposed to say? I broke the only rule you had, I’m sorry?” Wade snapped, “It’s not that easy-” 

 

Wade had assumed that he was far enough away that Spidey didn’t hear him, but the way he instantly turned to look in his direction and then looked back down to the river indicated Wade wasn’t quite as subtle as he thought. 

 

[CLEARLY, by the grace of fucking Satan, he’s chosen to ignore your existence. Take advantage of this _miracle and walk away-_ ] 

 

Wade threw himself forward the way he had as a child on the monkey bars, one swing at a time with the full knowledge that if he missed a bar he would fall into the river, and pulled himself up beside his quiet companion. 

 

They sat together for a while, Yellow ranting about ways to break the ice, White making it clear he disagreed with the course of action Wade was taking, and Spidey keeping his head straightforward in a way that made it look like he was watching the sky. Wade followed suit, watching the horizon where two hues of dark blue met, neither displaying any starlight. 

 

Wade glanced back at Webs occasionally, unsure of how to say that he was sorry he fucked up and growing increasingly nervous until Spidey quietly said, “He deserved it. Maybe I wish you had been more discreet, or that you’d waited until he was released from lock up, but I’m not upset with you. I suppose we’ll just need to have a few lessons on impulse control.” 

 

The air left Wade’s lungs and he breathed it all back in, finally feeling like the respiratory organs could expand to their full size again. 

 

{I KNEW HE WAS PERFF! IF YOU LIKE IT, THEN YOU SHOULDA PUT A RING ON IT! IF YOU LIKE IT THEN YOU SHOULDA-} 

 

[One day, everything will be too much for me and I will grow hands and cut out the part of the brain that hosts you as many times as it takes for you to stop growing back. I fucking swear it.] 

 

“He _is_ perfect,” Wade murmured under his breath. 

 

Spidey’s left cheek twitched beneath the mask, but he said nothing for a while, just angling his head back down to look at the water crashing a small distance beneath his booted feet. The words he chose to say were a whole world of a lot more personal than Wade had been expecting. 

 

“You would be surprised,” he started, then corrected himself to the words, “You and a lot of other people would be surprised to hear that wasn’t the first body I had to dispose of. It probably won’t be the last. One day my reputation will fall apart and most of the time it feels like I’m just postponing the inevitable. Did you know I turned twenty last year? I feel like I’m so much older than that, but I’m not, and the reality is I might very well die before I reach twenty-five, thirty if I’m lucky. I just want to fix what I can before my time comes, but I don’t have enough time to make a difference.” He laughed quietly, more to himself than to Wade, and then finished off with a soft, “Isn’t that sad?” 

 

Something about the words felt jarringly familiar, but Wade couldn’t place the recognition anywhere, and he felt sucked in by the realization that Spidey was actually telling him things about himself that presumably no one else in the super community knew, and that he was completely resigned to the idea of dying within the next five to ten years. During the entire confession, Spidey didn’t turn his way. He just looked out at the horizon, and though his mask hid any features that could give away his emotions, his voice sounded as lost as ever and for a moment, Wade wondered if Webs had forgotten he was even there. 

 

{NOPE! We must _protect SPIDEYBABY AT ALL COSTS-_ } 

 

[How can you ignore _blindingly obvious cues-_ ] 

 

Wade agreed with Yellow and, in spite of his own nerves, he reached out to cover Spidey’s hand with his own, heart beating a mile a minute as he held it the way his little hero had held onto his in the bathtub and he replied, “I won’t let anything happen to you. I could die a million times protecting you and I’d still come back ready to fight. I’ll keep you alive ‘til you’re old and grey and even then I’ll buy you diapers.” 

 

Spidey snorted loudly at his diversion and put a hand over his stomach, but he didn’t shake Wade’s hand off and Wade felt that small flutter in his stomach that was becoming more and more common lately. “Oh no,” he began through suppressed laughter, “Believe me, if I ever need a diaper, I’m set to end it all. You have permission to shoot me up and drop me in this river.” 

 

[Listen to me. This is a golden opportunity to take that permission early-] 

 

{YOU DISGUST ME!} 

 

Wade winced and shook his head. There was no way he would _ever_ use that permission. 

 

It started to rain, the sound of droplets hitting the water lightly was soothing enough that Wade started swinging his legs back and forth and Spidey seemed to feel the same way as he kept his gaze directed at their hands for a few minutes before looking back toward the horizon to see that there were storm clouds gathering in the distance and turning his hand over in Wade’s to intertwine their fingers. 

 

{THIS. IS. THE. BEST. VALENTINE’S. EVER.} 

 

[Pick up the signs, pick up the signs, pick up the fucking signs.] 

 

It was cold, it was raining, and while Wade felt like he had everything he needed to be happy right there on the bridge, he sagged a little at Yellow’s outburst because it came with the realization that the surprise he’d set up was probably destroyed by now. 

 

“You’re sad again, and I don’t understand what I said to upset you.” 

 

Wade shook his head as a grin grew on his features. “No, it wasn’t anything you said.” He stopped to think about whether or not he should admit what he’d done, but Yellow started shrieking about wasted effort and White emphatically emphasized that he _shouldn’t,_ so Wade chose to spite White because he still wasn’t over the sleep thing. “I just remembered it’s Valentine’s Day and I had a surprise set up but now it’s going to look like shit and-” 

 

“Show me.” 

 

“I just wanted to make this good, but- wait. Really?” 

 

{HE WANTS TO SEE IT, HE’S LITERALLY THE SWEETEST, LET’S BOOK TWO TICKETS TO VEGAS-} 

 

[Of all the shitholes to go to and of all the _worst_ people to _go there for-_ ] 

 

Spidey turned his body toward Wade and the rain soaking his suit made it seem like he’d been swimming. While Wade was silently coming to the conclusion that the rain would wash away most of the blood they’d left behind and that he should get Spidey home as soon as possible to run him a warm bath, Spidey focused on him like nothing else mattered as much as the surprise meant for him and he repeated, insistently, “Show me.” 

 

They ended up racing through Harlem, across the East River through the light traffic, through Jackson Heights, and straight into Queens. It was probably around four in the morning, and there was something beautiful about the idea that it was technically the day after Valentine’s Day, Spiderman had disposed of a body for him, and the rain made the garish decorations fall from more than one apartment and restaurant window. 

 

Webs followed his lead and Wade took him to a three story piano factory that had closed its doors a few months earlier. It was still a nice building, mostly red brick, with a clock tower on one corner, dead trees lining both visible edges of the building on the sidewalk, trees that would probably add a lot to the view once the leaves started growing again. Wade made a move to jump up and unravel the lowest rung of stairs for the fire escape, but Spidey just wrapped one arm around his midsection and shot a web at the edge of the roof, using it to leverage their weight and straight up _walk up the side of the building._  

 

Wade fucking _swooned._  

 

{If you don’t suck this guy’s dick, I swear to mint chocolate chip _ice cream-_ } 

 

[I don’t trust him. And you’re both morons. And I hate you.] 

 

When they reached the top, Wade’s mood dropped instantly. The roof wasn’t properly built to drain water, so it was already partially flooded. Wade had set up about a thousand tiny battery-operated candles, and every single one of them had shortened out. Not only that, but many of them were floating in the growing puddles of water. He had lined all four edges of the roof with red spider lilies and all of them were so drenched that the petals were floating in the water as the stems hung limply in place. The blanket he’d set for their midnight picnic was soaked, the food he’d prepared-- which consisted mostly of sandwiches-- had been broken into, presumably by birds as there were many holes in the saran wrap he’d used to contain them.The wine bottle-- an _expensive_ wine bottle-- had been knocked over and the red was still sloshing around in the puddles, like blood filtering into a pool. Even the lanterns he’d strung up from the AC unit to the clock tower were all too soaked to burn and he was kicking himself for forgetting to check something as simple as the damn _weather_ before setting up a date. 

 

{This is still salvageable with a good blowjob-} 

 

[Do not give _HIM_ a blowjob! Who knows what kind of gross shit turns him on-] 

 

{He’s a cinnamon roll and if you keep insulting him, I fucking swear-} 

 

[AHAHAHA YOU FUCKING BRICK, A CINNAMON ROLL. HA!] 

 

Yellow let out an _incomprehensible_ yell and Wade tried desperately to tune them both out before their fighting depressed him more than he already was. 

 

“Can you wait here for me?” Spidey’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he wondered why the webhead wanted to return to this disaster at all. “I have a surprise for you, too.” 

 

Wade stood stiffly and grunted in acknowledgement, shrugging and saying, “If you can save this shitshow, I’ll wait as long as you like.” 

 

He didn’t look at Spidey as he said so, too humiliated by his own idiocy, and he heard the wet footsteps as Spidey went to leave. 

 

[There is a chance he’s standing you up, but if he does plan on coming back, you can leave NOW and spare yourself the effort because he doesn’t actually want you the way you think-] 

 

{HE DOES TOO, HE HELD OUR HAND TWICE, HOW ELSE ARE WE SUPPOSED TO TAKE THAT-} 

 

[AS A CHEAP TRICK TO MANIPULATE US, YOU FOOLS! FOR THE MILLIONTH TIME, GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN-] 

 

“ENOUGH!” Wade yelled, completely done. “I already fucked up, okay!? I don’t need either of you badgering me over what I SHOULD OR SHOULD NOT DO! I fucking get it! I’m a fuck up! I’m fucking useless and a blowjob or running away to a foreign safehouse isn’t going to make me any better, so fuck off and let me be! Just. Just stop it. That’s enough.” 

 

He had _just_ died, and slept a possible eight hours less than twenty-four hours earlier and Wade already felt a bone deep exhaustion. He hadn’t had a fit of insecurity in a while, but he should have known he couldn’t just have a nice, romantic night without something ruining it. That something was him. He fucked up things for himself and he just leaned against the back wall of the clock tower and waited. At the very least, if Spidey decided not to return, Wade could drag his heartbroken self to a new safehouse and take up Peter Parker on his blatant invitation. Perhaps Parker didn’t _want_ him, but a girl could dream. 

 

The sound of the fire escape stairs creaking put him on edge, because Spidey wouldn’t use such a pedestrian method of reaching the top of a building. He found himself sliding his left katana out of its place at his back and waiting for the intruder to approach. Maybe it was just a squatter, but there was always a chance it was a S.H.I.E.L.D. spy and Wade wasn’t taking any chances. 

 

Seeing Spidey once the footsteps echoed so close by was a huge relief, and then Spidey crawled over the ledge and presented Wade with two bags with a Taco Bell logo filled to the brim with food and Spidey sheepishly said, “Tacos on a rooftop? I didn’t know what you liked, so I just… got you everything.” 

 

“You’re the source of all happiness, baby boy, I just happen to eat _everything.”_

 

{A ring. Pronto. I’m not fucking around about this one.} 

 

[You shouldn’t be. You should be running in the opposite direction.] 

 

Wade looked around at the soggy mess of his plans and asked, “You don’t want to eat somewhere else?” 

 

Spidey’s cheekbones did the thing, and then he said, “Close your eyes for a second and I’ll be right back.” 

 

Wade pouted and complained about being left alone again, a complaint which prompted Yellow to sing, _{Lonelyyy, I’m so lonelyyy, I have nobodyyy, I’m on my owwwn, ooooh},_ but Wade obeyed and covered his eyes with his hands. 

 

[On my own. I fucking _wish._ ] 

 

Wade distracted himself by humming along with Yellow’s antics until he felt a tap on his shoulder and removed his hands. Nothing really seemed all that different. 

 

“Follow me.” 

 

Wade had never seen Spidey looking so excited, like he’d done something so _good,_ he could barely keep a slow pace. It made him nervous. He followed Webs down the fire escape to the second floor and climbed in through the broken window, and then Wade saw an old, abandoned grand piano in the center of the room he’d entered, several wet spider lily petals spread around the instrument, and a single hastily dried off lantern set at the center of the piano, lit next to a box of matches Spidey must have bought at a gas station, and all the food spread across the old wood in their individuals wrappers. 

 

{I… I want to cry. What is this, no one else would do this for us. I demand a trip to the jewelry store!} 

 

[I’m just waiting for you to make the connection. I’m going to die laughing when it happens and then we’ll actually die.] 

 

Wade legitimately squealed and went in for a hug that Spidey didn’t even try to dodge, just informing him that, “The food will get cold,” once the hug had stretched for too long. 

 

{Just a _little longer, please-_ } 

 

[Don’t annoy him by constantly invading his personal space. In fact, avoid his personal space entirely, he’s not good to be around-] 

 

{FUCK OFF, WHY DO YOU HAVE TO RUIN EVERYTHING-} 

 

What followed was Wade _devouring_ his half of the food and watching Spidey lift his mask to the bridge of his nose and taking small bites of his own tacos. 

 

They talked about many things, their costume choices, how they got their powers-- Wade shortened the story considerably but Spidey still went very quiet at the information and Wade was sure Spidey felt sorry for him which didn’t register well with him so he hastily changed the subject-- and finally, once they were both done eating and just talking, Wade asked something that had been niggling at the back of his mind since they’d left the bridge. 

 

“So, out of curiosity… what was the story behind the first body you disposed of? Was it also a Hudson drop?” 

 

Whatever Wade had expected, it wasn’t what he got. 

  
He stared, dumbfounded, as his valentine responded with words Wade couldn’t really hear because every sense he had apart from his vision faded into the background the second that Webs’ mouth broke into an involuntary, brief, but absolutely _haunting_ smile, brilliantly white and soft at once, despite the glimpse of two breathtaking and perfectly _familiar sharp teeth._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please like this chapter, it took me eight hours to write. 
> 
> On the bright side, DEVELOPMENT! FINALLY! I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT SINCE I STARTED. Wade is FINALLY putting two and two together and I'm so happy we've come this far. I mean, there's still SO MUCH MORE COMING, but we have reached the first milestone and I am TIREDLY BEAMING. Please, please, DROWN ME IN A RIVER OF COMMENTS. 
> 
> ALSO! BEET/Albeenocookie gave me fanart for this, guys! I've inserted it in the chapter because it's so pretty I love it.   
> All the love, Katana!


	9. 26 Corpses And An Army

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade reacts to his newfound knowledge, Spidey tells the story of his first murder (Spoilers: It wasn't Norman Osborn), and an army comes into play.

{What.} 

 

[Dear fuck. If it _still_ escapes you I'm going to find a way to make sure our next suicide is permanent. There's no point in this if I'm stuck with anyone _this stupid._ ] 

 

Yellow wasn't even listening to White and while Wade absently thought that if White wanted to find a way to actually kill them he should just politely ask Peter to handle it some day, he was stuck in limbo, staring at the person in front of him. 

 

{Is he…?} Yellow didn't even finish the question before White started screaming. 

 

[YOU FUCKING MORON, HOW LONG IS THIS GOING TO TAKE PLEASE GET IT AND COME TO YOUR FUCKING SENSES, CHRIST-] 

 

{Oh My God.} There was a sense of shock radiating in his head, but Wade didn't let a muscle in his face move to show it. 

 

[Please get us out of here now-] 

 

White rarely ever said please and Wade felt guilty denying him since he'd been reduced to begging but he had other priorities at the moment. He'd been fiddling with a wet flower petal as he talked to Spidey, but it was now crushed in his left hand as he thought through every interaction he'd ever had with Spidey and- 

 

 _{PETER. WE'RE THE LITERAL LUCKIEST GUY ON EARTH DO YOU REALIZE WHAT THIS MEANS-}_  

 

[GODDAMMIT! HE'S USING YOU, WAKE UP! WAKE THE FUCK-] 

 

Peter-The-Death-Angel-Parker. 

 

 _Holy fuck._  

 

[This is the furthest thing from holy.]

 

{This is fucking _divine! What do you mean, this is- You get the BEEEEST of BOTH WORLDS, chill it out, take it slow! Then you MURDER SOME FOES-_ } 

 

[NO, DO NOT DO THIS TO ME YOU INSOLENT BASTARD, I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR HANNAH MONTANA BULLSHIT-] 

 

Wade had shot Spiderman, took care of his wounds and left him in his apartment. Peter had then changed into very loose clothing-- which _oh my god those had been Wade’s clothes--_ found him at the restaurant, and proceeded to risk his fucking life by jumping out at a helicopter without his web shooters and while his shoulders were _still injured._ Even if Webs had a healing factor, it wasn’t anything like Wade’s. Catching himself on the railing of a helicopter with the arm of his previously _dislocated shoulder_ must have been painful enough to make anyone _cry_ and instead, Peter had killed three men on his behalf and fucking _smiled while doing it._ His pain tolerance must have been absolutely insane. Of fucking _course_ Spidey was _Peter._ Why else would Spiderman have left a message in Wade’s bathtub in _his own fucking blood._ Spiderman had literally come to visit him, told him he was cool with murder, and seemed shocked by the fact that Wade didn’t know who he was. He should have clued in right then and there. His mind stumbled over the moment where Spidey had him on the floor and bent down to whisper in his ear that Wade shouldn’t want to fall in love with him, that it would be the biggest mistake of his life. He was _such an idiot._ This meant that when Peter cut off his legs, he didn’t just protect Wade in their escape when protecting him wasn’t necessary, he had put his mask on and _stayed to deal with the fallout._ Wade had been choosing Spidey over Peter because Spidey stayed to deal with his crazy and made him feel like his looks were completely irrelevant but Peter was the one behind the mask, telling him that everyone had scars, that _Wade’s were just more interesting._ His precious little vigilante-turned-death-angel had dressed him up all pretty, paraded him proudly as his Valentine in front of the Avengers whilst staring down Tony’s canon and Black fucking Widow in a single evening. He had moved in with Wade, baiting him to find out who he was, leaving bodies asking him to come find him, to basically just _realize he was right there,_ he had taken Wade’s hand in his and let him have what he needed to function and sleep and never said a negative word about it. Now, the question White had made sense. Wade would have expected Peter Parker to want to shoot him himself, not to hand Wade the gun, but he had let Wade take control of his own mental health and just kneeled beside him in a show of support and Wade- he loved him. There was no denying it now, he _loved him so fucking much_ that it felt like the emotion would up and explode out of his chest like a weird alien birth. No _shit,_ Spiderman was Peter Parker. Spiderman just casually disposing of bodies? Not even reacting to the sight of a headless man? Not even chiding Wade and then holding his hand in the same night he watched him murder someone? _Smiling_ with those perfectly sharp teeth when Wade asked him about the first time he got rid of a body. _Of course_ Webs was his pretty little monster. _Who else could he be?_  

 

“Um. Wade? Are you okay? You seem a little… quiet.”

 

{I HAVE ASKED YOU TO GET A RING AND IF YOU DON’T GO BUY ONE I WILL RIOT, I SWEAR TO THE FIRES OF HELL-} 

 

[I knew this would happen. I held onto a tiny shimmer of fucking hope that if you knew you would come to your fucking senses but I kept quiet because I just _knew_ you would be a stubborn _mule about this._ For once in your pathetic _life, do something-_ ] 

 

Wade was moving before he realized it, body shifting forward toward what he wanted before his mind even caught up with the idea, and when it did it was too late to stop himself because the sensation of warm soft lips pressed against his felt like the first time Wade fired a gun. Right. Perfect. Like destiny. 

 

He pulled back when Webs didn’t move, but only slightly, just enough that if Webs said he didn’t have a problem with it, Wade could kiss him again. And again and again and again. 

 

Yellow was a drooling fucking _mess._ He kept stuttering over the lyrics of _I Can’t Help Falling In Love_ and trailing off into whispers of absolute adoration while White stewed in silence. 

 

Pretty pink lips parted slightly and Peter breathed in a bit, just a shaky little inhale before he whispered, “I… what- what was that for?” 

 

“Marry me,” Wade whispered back. 

 

Peter snorted, assuming he was joking and he shoved at Wade’s shoulder in jest before saying, “Marry you? You don’t even know my name.” 

 

Wade knew his name, but he just grinned widely and replied, “Don’t need to. I already have an I HEART WEBS t-shirt.” 

 

Peter started laughing softly before he trailed off and frowned. Wade wanted to put his thumbs against the edges of that mouth and soften them out to get the smile back. Right up until Webs spoke up again. “Are you saying this just because you want to fuck me?” 

 

Wade froze up in his seat and blinked owlishly back at Peter for what must have been too long because the hero shrugged awkwardly and elaborated with the words, “I mean, I’m living at your place and I figured you would want compensation eventually. Even friends don’t get off rent free, but I didn’t think you’d try to be romantic about it. It’s sweet and all and I’m not saying I don’t appreciate the effort, but you don’t _have to-”_  

 

{Hold the fuck up, _what,_ who taught him that sex was-} 

 

[He’s willing to fuck you for a living space. Wow. I guess he really _doesn’t_ care about the scars.] 

 

“Webs. Spidey. Baby boy, _no._ I don’t want- okay, well I do but not- I don’t want to fuck you in _compensation._ I like you. I fucking adore you, Webhead. I’m not going to- No. Just, I don’t-” 

 

Wade didn’t even know what else he could _say,_ he was so confused and hurt at the implication and he started to back away a few inches, not wanting Peter to think that he was demanding the right to be in his personal space. He wanted to be close to him, but he wanted Peter to _want him there,_ not to be uncomfortable as Wade crossed boundaries he hadn’t realized were there. His disappointment threatened to swallow him as the space between them grew and then a hand settled on the nape of his neck and yanked him back forward, about an inch from Spidey’s face. 

 

Spidey was smiling, but it wasn’t fierce or effortless. It was awkward and unsure and Peter kissed him. It was soft and sweet and even though the taste of Taco Bell wasn’t ideal for kissing, Wade didn’t care. Just the knowledge that the two people he wanted most were both part of the one person he loved meant that he wouldn’t trade that moment for the world.

 

When Peter pulled away he didn’t let go of Wade. He just quietly asked, “What exactly was it about my first body disposal story that made you want to kiss me?” 

 

Wade’s smile was so wide it was starting to hurt, but he just said, “I didn’t even hear the story. You smiled at me and I was a fucking goner. Hook, line, and sinker.” 

 

Peter’s skin flushed a light pink that looked beautiful under the light from the lantern, but he just nodded sharply and turned his head away in apparent embarrassment before mumbling, “Take me home?” 

 

{Is he offering what I think he’s offering-} 

 

[Don’t be stupid.] 

 

{White, are you being protective of him? Are you changing your mind, that’s adorable-} 

 

[I’m not changing jack shit and I hate you all.] 

 

Wade wasn’t going to take advantage of the situation. Evidently, Spidey had a messed up idea of what sex needed to be if he wanted to use it to pay rent and Wade never wanted Peter to think that Wade would use him for sexual gratification. No way, no fucking how. He would wait like a good… what were they? The way Spidey held his hand on the way to their apartment made him feel like they were definitely more than friends. After all, Spidey _kissed him back,_ but did this mean they were dating? Were they official? They were living together but did that necessarily mean that the possible relationship was automatically more serious or was that factor not one he should be considering? 

 

{Who _cares?_ The point is that he wouldn’t do this with anyone else! The point is the booty is ours!} 

 

[The _point_ is that you’re both imbeciles with terrible taste in dating.] 

 

{Eu contraire! This is the best decision we’ve ever made-} 

 

[You misspelled worst-] 

 

{Best!} 

 

[Worst.] 

 

Wade tuned the boxes out when they arrived at the apartment door and Spidey hesitated to go inside. 

 

“Something up, Webs?” 

 

Spidey simply leaned up against the wall casually, not holding onto Wade’s hand quite as tightly as he said, “I still meant what I said, you know.” 

 

Wade smiled to cover up his own nervousness and asked, “And remind me what that was?” 

 

Spidey grew quiet, frown present long enough for Wade to want so desperately to kiss it away, and then the hero sighed and pulled on the collar of Wade’s suit, tugging him close enough that Wade could feel the end of Peter’s sigh blow on the edge of his own jaw, and then Webs said, “You really shouldn’t fall in love with me, Wade. I won’t be good for you. I’m honestly the worst mistake you’ll ever make and if you decide you don’t actually want to stand at my side, you can say so now and I won’t enter your apartment. I won’t be a part of your life. All you have to do is say no.” 

 

{Pfffft! As if! Oh, he’s so freaking cute, he thinks we don’t know-} 

 

[Why is he… He wants to use you so why is he warning you off, what’s the logic behind-] 

 

{MAYBE IT’S NOT FUCKING LOGIC! MAYBE HE’S JUST PERFECT FOR US, YOU BRICK-} 

 

[No one is perfect for us! That’s… that’s literally not possible-] 

 

{Why NOT? WHY CAN’T WE JUST HAVE HIM-} 

 

[BECAUSE WE’RE GOING TO GET HURT. BECAUSE NO ONE EVER LOVES US BACK, DON’T YOU GET IT!? They… they _always_ leave in the end. They never stay and this is the hardest either of you has ever fallen and we need to leave before there’s nothing left of us to _break._ I can’t do this again… I can’t fucking do this.] 

 

{... White… I- he’s different.} 

 

[Right.] White replied, sounding just as exhausted as Wade had felt a few days prior. [Different. Whatever you say.] 

 

Wade’s heart seized a bit in his ribcage. He’d never stopped to realize that their previous experiences had hurt him and Yellow, but White always stayed quiet towards the end of them, because he was the one left the most jaded from the pain. 

 

But even with the guilt Wade felt and the fear White was experiencing, he had to take a leap of faith. Spidey was standing in front of him, close enough that Wade could feel his heartbeat is he just reached out a hand against his throat, and telling Wade that he would leave if Wade just said the word. Wade just leaned in and pulled his convict into his chest, holding him and enjoying the stifled inhale of surprise he heard by his ear before he pulled away to open the door and usher his precious confused little spider inside. 

 

It didn’t take long to get Spidey settled on the couch. It was very likely about six in the morning and both of them were fairly exhausted so when the webhead fell asleep, Wade brought out the blankets and tucked him in, smiling like an idiot the entire time as he went into his own room to get into bed. He spent a long time laying there in the dark, facing his bedroom window and thinking about all the things that Peter had done for him that he and White both knew were manipulative but that Wade and Yellow could also tell went beyond that. Peter was a diagnosed psychopath, but so was Wade. He’d been labelled a psychopath, a sociopath, bipolar, one particularly brave therapist had claimed Wade had schizophrenia. Wade didn’t believe any of them, and none of their prescriptions had ever taken with him anyway, no matter the dosage. Wade was not a monster without feelings, and neither was Peter. Wade just kept thinking about the night Spidey yelled that he didn’t believe Wade loved a psychopath, because a psychopath couldn’t feel anything in return. Peter really believed the garbage the newspapers and so called psychologists said about him and Wade wanted, more than anything, to help his favorite little murderer realize he was so much more than the conditions listed in his prison file. 

 

When footsteps crept up toward his bedroom, Wade pretended to be asleep. He had left his door halfway open and it usually creaked a bit when moved, but Peter crept in silently and Wade was as amused as he was impressed. 

 

[This is the perfect opportunity to kill us. Just you wait and see. He’s going to take advantage of you.] 

 

{You wanna bet?} 

 

Wade felt his blankets moving down his skin and a weight settling on his bed behind him. He tried to contain his smile but failed _miserably_ and when lithe but toned arms wrapped around his middle, he couldn’t help the way he leaned into the contact. 

 

[What the fuck. He likes to _cuddle?_ ] 

 

{BOOYAH BITCHES}

 

There was a long, comfortable silence-- though Wade hesitated to call it silence because of the boxes-- and then Spidey sleepily mumbled, “I know you’re awake.” 

 

Wade finally let out the yawn he’d been holding back for the past five minutes and replied with an innocent, “I plead the fifth.” 

 

Wade could feel the way laughter shook Spidey’s smaller frame against his back and finally rolled over gracelessly to let Peter’s head rest on his chest. Peter was still wearing his mask, but other than that he was only in his boxers and Wade hurried to cover them both back up in blankets, worried he might get sick. When Peter finally spoke up, it was in a soft tone Wade hadn’t been expecting, like Peter was afraid that if he spoke any louder he might not be able to finish speaking at all. 

 

“I was fifteen, you know. When I got my powers. Back then, I was just a kid. I wasn’t normal exactly, but I wasn’t messed up either. At least, I didn’t think I was. I thought I finally had something I could use to defend myself and I didn’t think about anyone else. I just thought I was so lucky. So one day I try buying some food at a convenience store and I don’t have enough. I’m five cents short but I’m starving and the owner turns me away. So when an armed man walked in and handed me the sandwich I wanted, I didn’t question it. I was so hungry all the time and someone gave me food I couldn’t afford for _free._ I wasn’t going to help the man that said I couldn’t have it. I just… left. I was happy. And later in the week when I had a fight with my uncle I left home in the middle of the night and he went out to find me. Do you know what it was like to be dropped off at home by two policemen at three in the morning and watch as my aunt realized her husband wasn’t coming home because he’d been shot in front of me? And I had to sit there, knowing that the man who shot my uncle was the same man I had left behind to rob a convenience store instead of calling the police or stepping in. The police never even bothered to look for him. But I found him. I found him one night, trying to steal a car outside of a high school. The funny thing about it is that I kept remembering the last words my uncle said to me: ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’ I kept thinking I would take full responsibility, I would never let that man take another innocent life. I don’t even remember attacking him, I just recognized him one minute and the next his heart was in my hands and it was beating. It managed to beat three times before he finished dying.” Spidey seemed lost in thought and what struck Wade most about the story wasn’t the natural propensity for violence his obsession had, but the way he spoke about the entire experience. It sounded like he was recalling a distant memory, like none of the emotions he felt on the matter back then were relevant and like they no longer affected him. It sounded almost as if Peter had gone through so much that a painful memory was nothing to flinch about, as if he’d been told time and time again he wasn’t allowed to have feelings of his own and Wade ached for him, so he just held him closer as he continued. When Spidey spoke back up again, it was rushed with sudden excitement as he said, “Did you know throwing a body down a manhole is an easy way to dispose of it? Those things lead to the sewers, and in a city so close to the ocean, they’ll eventually be flooded and anything down there will float out to sea. Not to mention that there’s rodents that will eat away at the corpse and the fact that the smell isn’t any worse than a city’s worth of sewage lines so no one would think twice even if they _did_ notice it. I mean, I didn’t know that at the time, but I was freaking out and I just shoved the body down one and it was never found. Pretty cool, honestly. So, uh, not technically a Hudson drop, but… close enough?” 

 

{He’s so excited and pumped that’s so cute oh my fuck please marry him can we just buy a ring _come on_ -} 

 

[He just told you about his first unreported victim and how he got rid of the body and you’re thinking about engagement rings. What the fuck.] 

 

Peter lifted his head up to look at Wade, clearly biting the inside of his cheek as he waited for a reaction and Wade didn’t know how the hell Peter Parker managed to miss the way Wade looked at him, but he nodded in encouragement and replied, “Definitely close enough, Sweetheart.” 

 

Peter’s responding laugh trailed off into slow breathing and Wade fell asleep soon after, happier than he could remember feeling in a long time. 

 

Waking up alone wasn’t something he was particularly surprised about. Turning on the television and seeing that every news station was broadcasting a conference called by the Avengers, The X-Men, the FBI, Homeland Security, Interpol, and several foreign intelligence agencies with their own mutant subdivisions _was._ The report focused on the fact that twenty six people had been killed that morning. The twenty-six people were all politicians or rich society types with ties to S.H.I.E.L.D., and every single one of them had been left shirtless, strung up, and thrown over a highway overpass just outside of the city, facing the whole of New York from above with only four of the bodies left alive to hang from their necks and suffocate publicly. The rest of the deceased had a letter carved over their exposed torsos. Strung up together between the carvings and the choking victims used as _spaces,_ the bodies spelled out a message. _FIGHT FOR YOUR DEATH ANGEL._ The funniest part about it was that they had to block off both the highway below and the overpass to get the bodies down because the ropes they were tied up with were all half cut through which meant that when they tried to pull the bodies up, the ropes would come that much closer to snapping and the police were afraid that one of the corpses would fall through the car windshields and kill the gawking people below. 

 

{He. Killed. People. For. _Spaces._ He _is everything oh my fucking fuck I can’t-_ } 

 

[Mother of fuck. This… this is _insanity._ This is beyond even your own lunacy. He was here this morning. He barely slept. He did this in _broad daylight and got away with it. What time is it-_ ] 

 

It was 4 in the afternoon. Spidey had slept maybe a maximum of four hours if the claim that he’d hung those bodies before midday was to be believed. And if he’d been done by twelve, where-

 

Wade stared at the screen. Reporters were asking Captain America questions since Stark was never in the appropriate state to answer them anymore, the rest of the tattered remains of the Avengers stood stoically behind him, as did the X-Men and a representative from each intelligence agency present, and far behind them was the image of Daredevil, looking like his jaw was ready to crack from the stress of being in such a populated area and Spiderman, whose stance was just as strained and tense as that of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.  

 

The fucking _irony_ of seeing all these people gathered to discuss what needed to be done about Peter Parker while he stood _right there_ had Wade giggling like a damn _child._ He felt a little bad for laughing, given how uncomfortable his baby boy seemed with being there and being forced to stand next to Daredevil, especially since the mere _mention_ of that particular vigilante made him throw the Avengers’ last offer to him in their faces. Wade wondered what exactly Spidey had against Daredevil that was big enough for him to avoid him, but not bad enough for him to deem him a roadblock that needed to be eliminated. 

 

{Do you think they fucked?} 

 

[Must you always be so _crass?_ Not everything needs to be a reality TV show-] 

 

{Wait! Wait, wait, wait!} 

 

[WHAT!?] 

 

{Daredevil is a lawyer!} 

 

Each of them went silent for about a minute as Captain America droned on about the need for volunteers of legal age and they each paid him no attention. 

 

[... Who was Peter Parker’s defense attorney?] 

 

{OH. MY. GOD. Is DD on our side? Does he _know?_ He told us we had a loud heartbeat that one time, he totes would have realized-} 

 

Wade all but ran around his apartment trying to find his laptop and when he did, it was under his bed, he opened up all the saved documents on the Parker case and sure enough, under the name of his state assigned lawyer, was the name Matthew Murdock. He had known that Daredevil occasionally did state cases, but for him to have taken the case of _Peter Parker_ was a huge risk. Granted, he’d managed to keep Parker out of death row, but why would he have taken interest in the case in the first place? 

 

If Daredevil _knew_ about Spiderman and Peter Parker being one in the same and he hadn’t told anyone, and he was still alive, then to some degree, Peter trusted him. He probably just didn’t want the Avengers to notice _how much_ he trusted someone he allegedly didn’t know very well. 

 

In the spirit of being supportive- 

 

[You mean territorial.] 

 

{Shut up!} 

 

- _supportive,_ Wade decided he would show up to the little conference. 

 

And then he heard the screams. There, on _live television,_ thousands of people in masks and black Death Angel shirts burst into the blocked off streets of the conference. Some of them had guns, some of them had swords, some of them had powers, but every single one of them marched forward calmly to the very center of the gathering, rose their weapons in the air, and spoke as one, “I will fight for the death angel.” 

 

Not a single one of them shouted, each of their voices was a normal decibel, but there were so many of them that even on the broadcast the echo of their voices sounded like a scream, like a declaration of war, and far in the background Wade could see Spidey’s mask twitch once. It could have been a glitch, but Wade knew better. Peter Parker was smiling. 

 

_{All my wolves being to HOWL, wake me up, the time is NOW! OH-OH, CAN YOU HEAR THE DRUMMING, THERE’S A REVOLUTION COMING-}_

 

[You’re actually in love with him. It’s not going to be a phase, is it? You’re ready to take on the world for him-] 

 

Peter had raised an army and they were all waiting for him to show up and give a command and Wade was ready to fight the fucking world.  

 

When the first gun fired in the silence, Wade ran for the door. 

  
This was the beginning of something beautiful, and Wade wasn’t going to miss it. Especially because Peter had not carved the message, ‘Fight for _the_ death angel.’ He had carved, ‘Fight for _your_ death angel,’ and Wade wanted to ask if the message was primarily meant for him. Weasel was going to kill him when he saw him on the news and Wade was already grinning just picturing it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, can you believe we've reached 40,000 words? I'm so proud of us and happy to have all of you around! For anyone new, welcome to Sharp Teeth. I'm always shocked when I get comments saying this fic was recommended to them by other people because it means that someone liked it enough to talk about it to their friends and I... I'm a little speechless at the kindness. I'm actually working on finding all the songs I think match the vibe of this fic to attach a playlist of sorts in the next chapter notes for you guys, though I will say that I had the U N D E R D O G S . Nightcore Edit of Can't Help Falling In Love [NV | DARK VERSION] on repeat throughout the writing process of this chapter and many of the previous chapters. It's quite possibly my favorite thing, I highly recommend it. Thank you to those of you who offered to create artwork for this fic, I'm beyond honored as I like to draw and paint myself and know that it takes time and effort that none of you are obligated to offer. Also, credit goes to sfox for the Hannah Montana parody lyric :) 
> 
> Also #abfab_2000 on instagram made fanart for this chapter and I've been trying to link it but for some reason instagram doesn't let me embed a .jpg image? I tried, but it's so soft and cute and you guys should go check it out! 
> 
> For everyone waiting for The Inverse, the update will be up tomorrow, and there's a chance that my schedule may change in September. It hasn't been confirmed yet, but I'll still have three days off to update all my fanworks, I'm just not sure which three days of the week they will be yet, but I'll keep you all aware of when the next update for each chapter will arrive, and at least until the end of August updates will continue as they are now, Mondays for Highway to Hell, Tuesdays for Sharp Teeth, and Wednesdays for The Inverse. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts on this chapter with THE COMMENTS!!! 
> 
> With love, Katana.


	10. Then You'll Be My Psychopath.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is going to be a very bloody, very drawn out fight here, prepare yourselves. 
> 
> Wade gets a phone call and reluctantly does as he's told. The results stun just about everyone involved expect for Peter.

Wade almost ignored his phone when it started ringing, determined to vault himself across the tops of New York buildings and fire escapes so that he could assist his Death Angel, but then he remembered that Peter _lived with him._ There was a chance he’d saved Wade’s number, there was a chance he was calling to tell Wade what to do. 

 

[Don’t pick up! Don’t even go! Turn around and go back to the apartment, we can pretend we never saw the news, every merc in the city will be after your head if you show up, you’re going to _ruin all we have going for us-_ ] 

 

{For God’s sake, Judy! Pick up the sock! _Pick up the sock! PICK UP THE SOCK!!!}_  

 

[It’s not a sock for fuck’s sake, we’re not watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S. anymore if you can’t control yourself-] 

 

Wade didn’t even stop moving, he had two miles to go and if he wasn’t afraid to tear a few ligaments and make his own lungs bleed, he could get there in ten minutes. He picked up the phone with an out of breath, “Yes, Babydoll?” 

 

{Babycakes, Sweetheart, Love Muffin, Darkest Darling, Angel Baby- _oooh I love you, oooh I do, no one can love you liiiiike I do! Oohhhhh, oooh!}_

 

[You’ve nicknamed a budding psychopath after a doll-] 

 

{He’s not a _psychopath,_ he’s a vigilante-} 

 

[Same difference-] 

 

{That would mean _we’re a psychopath too you fucking dipshit-}_  

 

“Wade, I- how did you know it was me? You know what, whatever, I don’t have time. Daredevil’s covering for me, are you coming? We’re in Times Square-” 

 

{Love that our baby just _knows we saw it-_ } 

 

[The message was meant for the _city, not you! STOP ASSUMING YOU’RE SPECIAL-_ ] 

 

“Webs, I can’t believe you have to _ask! I’m already,”_ he paused to take in a huge breath, “On my way-” 

 

[No! Now he knows you’re headed there! Now you can’t turn back, Weasel’s going to fire you, this is the last straw-] 

 

{Who _cares?_ We’ve got enough money to last us a fucking lifetime and every request that comes in is targeted for us _anyway,_ if Weasel fires us, that’s the end of the business-}

 

[Stop CHANGING EVERYTHING-]

 

Peter’s voice cut them all off. 

 

“Look, I know you said you would fight for the Death Angel and I’m not disagreeing, I just can’t fight on that side yet and it’s complicated, but-” 

 

{Tell him we love him and would do anything-} 

 

[HANG UP AND RUN YOU BLOODY IDIOT, RIGHT NOW THAT HE’S DISTRACTED, THIS IS OUR LAST CHANCE-] 

 

Wade had been having fun keeping something to himself, but Spidey was freaking out and still waiting for him to catch on and Wade didn’t think either of them had the time to sit through an explanation of why Wade would choose to fight for him instead of what he’d originally said. 

 

“Petey, tell me what you want me to do.” 

 

Peter went deathly silent on the other end of the call and Wade stopped running. He was ten blocks from Times Square but he could already see a bloodbath and hear the screams and bullets on Peter’s side before getting a belated echo from down the street. He would not jump into the fray and vault himself through the masses until Peter told him what he wanted from him. 

 

[That’s it. There’s no going back. If you ghost on him now he’ll find you and he’ll find a way to kill you because you confirmed you know his secret you absolute _bastard._ ] 

 

{If the last thing we see is his smile, we can die _happy-_ } 

 

When Peter finally spoke up he sounded pleased, rushed but happily surprised. “How long have you known?” 

 

Wade grinned, but started tapping his foot anxiously. Down below, he could see Tony Stark in his Iron Man suit, fighting off people that were trying and failing to tear the thing apart. Captain America was forced to physically throw people off of him and there was blood all over his costume that Wade thought belonged to other people right up until he saw how badly the man was trying to fight without collapsing. Bruce was in full Hulk mode, the problem was that he lost control entirely and wasn’t distinguishing between friend and foe and he was staggering. There had to be at least fifty shots of tranquilizers stuck all over his shoulders and Wade took all of a second to notice that there were snipers set in the surrounding buildings. At least fifty people were dead, half of them wearing black shirts and half wearing combat suits or professional attire. Natasha was still on the stage, fighting every person that tried to come up and bleeding _heavily_ from a wound in her side. Someone came up behind her with a machete and thousands of people stood witness to Tony Stark blasting a person hard enough for the contents of his body to explode over a ten foot radius. Guards and police were shooting people with no hesitation but for every shot they took a shot was taken against their own. The remaining X-Men were out fighting but it was a losing battle for everyone involved with the exception of Yukio who was killing with abandon. She dodged anyone that aimed for her, slit their wrists so that they would bleed out with people screaming around them, shortened out the hearts of anyone she touched so harshly that Wade could see actual pulses of electricity running on their skin in their final moments, it was like she couldn’t even see what she was doing, like all she knew anymore was the fight because she’d lost the will to exist without it. Jean wasn’t moving, she was far above everyone, watching their movements as if she didn’t know what she wanted to do as Scott fought ahead, not realizing she wasn’t involving herself in his war. People were ducking behind cars, ripping doors off their hinges to use as shields, lifting the dead bodies of their friends and partners to use for cover as they tried to advance, and the whole of Times Square was _drenched_ in varying shades of red. The fight raged on in spite of all of this and anyone who froze or realized they were in over their heads was killed as they cried. Wade was anxious to intervene, but he just replied, “For a little while. I don’t think now’s the time to talk about it though-” 

 

{YESSSSS, _LET THE BODIES HIT THE FLOOR, LET THE BODIES HIT THE FLOOR, LET THE BODIES HIT THE- FLOOOOOOOOOR-}_  

 

[Neither side gains anything from this fight, don’t you see how pointless it is, he has a hidden agenda-] 

 

No, the deaths of political figures that would make international agencies hesitant to send anymore help, the arrests of thousands of attackers that would slow the justice system and police department to a fucking crawl, the destruction of the public image of the Avengers and that of the X-Men, the guarantee that they would receive no further allies for slaughtering members of the public who didn’t have powers, the knowledge that the majority of them would be wounded and recovering and Peter could get away with anything he wanted for a few weeks, it wasn’t pointless. Wade knew what Peter was doing. He wouldn’t kill innocent people but no one who showed up with a weapon ready to kill was innocent, no one in this pit of war was an innocent and Peter didn’t even have to lift a finger, they were _already killing each other for him._  

 

Peter laughed and Wade could barely hear it over the chaos but it was still as beautiful as the first time he heard it and he didn’t have the time to melt. “Okay, yeah, you’re right. Look, in about a minute I’m going to start fighting, I’m going to go slow enough that when the snipers take a shot at me, they’re _not going to miss-”_  

 

{WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, HELL NO, HE ISN’T-} 

 

[The lunatic wants to get himself shot on _purpose! Do you see what kind of idiocy you’re in love with-_ ] 

 

“WHAT!? NO! YOU CAN’T-” 

 

Wade started running toward the edge of his claimed roof to vault in and find Spidey and keep him safe and not fucking _shot,_ but Peter interrupted him. 

 

 _“Wade,_ I need you to trust me. I’m going to be _fine,_ a graze isn’t going to kill me, alright? I’ll make it look genuine, I just need you to run to my aid, be a good hero and _save me on camera,_ and then you’re going to shove me into the back of an ambulance. I know you hear the sirens, they’re on their way-” 

 

{FUCK NO, THAT WILL NOT BE HAPPENING-} 

 

[He’s crazy. Do you fucking hear him? That’s INSANITY. He is actually clinically insane-] 

 

“I trust you, Petey, I do, but this- I can’t just _leave you-_ ” 

 

“I won’t be going anywhere! I just- You need to make the Avengers trust you, because I won’t be around them after this and I still need information and when _Spiderman_ disappears from that ambulance and only bodies are left behind, they’re all going to think I’m dead. Wade, I need this and you’re the only one-” 

 

“You want me to not only let you get shot, but to _not kill anyone after that,_ save you, and save the stupid Avengers, and then what? Play happy little reunion while I wonder where you are? I don’t think I can-” 

 

{You’re DAMN FUCKING RIGHT WE DON’T THINK WE CAN, FUCK THAT-} 

 

[OR you can listen to him, get the Avengers to trust you, and then use them as fucking sheilds when he decides to turn on you-]

 

“I already said, I’m _not. going. anywhere._ The ambulance is going to take off, disappear behind a building out of sight, and the person who comes out will be _me._ In the flesh. The one they’re all waiting for.” 

 

{Oh. Oh god he’s going to pull one of those, WHY HAVEN’T YOU BOUGHT A RING YET-} 

 

[THE LAST THING WE NEED IS TO ESTABLISH PERMANENCY WITH THIS FREAK-] 

 

Wade’s mind ran at the speed of fucking light and he had to bite down on his fucking _tongue_ to keep himself from screaming. When he finally had himself under control, he growled, “You want me, to gain the trust of the Avengers, and you’re going to come back in without your mask and suit and expect me _not to be on your side?”_  

 

{Wait, wait, wait, fucking _what?_ He _can’t be thinking what I think he’s thinking-_ } 

 

[Dear _HELL._ He wants you to fight him. That, what the _fuck._ No, no, _no-_ ] 

 

There was a sound of a struggle on the other end and Peter ended the call with an audible smile and an expectant, “Don’t let me down, Wade. Play the part and I’m yours.” 

 

Wade was furious, conflicted, but most of all desperate. He wanted Peter to be his so fucking bad and there his Angel was, dangling the opportunity in front of him like a five star meal dipped in poison and Wade- 

 

{Don’t you fucking _dare-_ } 

 

[You’re determined to make every mistake you can in your lifetime, aren’t you-] 

 

_Play the part and I’m yours._

 

-Wade was going to take the bait. 

 

{HE’S GOING TO GET HIMSELF HURT AND INSTEAD OF TAKING CARE OF HIM YOU’RE GOING TO LET HIM GO OUT THERE-} 

 

[You’re actually going to fight him, holy fuck, that’s it, this is the pinnacle of madness, there’s no saving you now, how can you live with yourself-] 

 

Wade took a breath. A second one. And when he saw Spiderman swinging over the bodies and webbing armed men and women and _teenagers_ to the ground, Wade jumped into the fray. He did his best to run through the crowds of injured and desperate people, attacking and knocking people out without leaving a single corpse behind him that hadn’t already been there and when Wade came close enough for Webs to see him in the crowd, the speed with which he shot out webs to catch himself slowed down, his pace shot down to half of his original speed and Wade saw, with crystal clarity, the moment where one lucky sniper saw their shot at a hero and took it. 

 

{MOVE!!!!!!} 

 

[It’s not going to kill him.] 

 

Spidey moved, but not fast enough and the bullet hit somewhere near his throat. Wade was so close he could actually see where the bullet grazed his skin and the area spilled over in bright sprays of red. 

 

Wade moved faster than he’d ever moved in his life, katanas slicing through people’s non vital parts in ways they could survive if they left the situation. Half of them wouldn’t and that half would die and Wade _did not care._  

 

To Spidey’s credit, he made everything look _devastatingly real._ His web lining snapped mid swing when he was still ten feet above the ground in a way that looked perfectly accidental. He landed in a sprint that slowed to a halt as he covered his throat with both gloved hands and collapsed on his knees, Wade lost the ability to hear anything but Spidey’s choking breaths. People had ducked down when the shot came, no one had been looking in the hero’s direction but Wade. They all thought the bullet pierced the skin, they all thought Spiderman was choking on his own blood in Times Square and people stared _wide eyed and disbelieving_ because there was no public record of Spiderman _ever_ being shot or dangerously wounded. What worried Wade was when Spidey started coughing up blood. 

 

Everything slowed down and Wade found himself stealing a baton from a dead cop and beating a path toward Peter. There was no thought, no noise, no hesitation. There was just a moment where Wade thought he might actually be wrong and losing everything he ever wanted and before he knew it Spiderman was lying limply in his arms and Wade was running to the nearest visible ambulance. 

 

No one tried to stop him, and it was only at the doors of the ambulance that Wade took a moment to touch the wound as the paramedics tried to turn him away for a man whose femoral artery was bleeding profusely. Wade was about a second from killing the man to get their attention on the patient that _mattered,_ but then Wade realized his fingers were touching a mere flesh wound like he’d originally thought. His confusion must have been visible, because Spidey whispered, “Bit my cheek for the blood, I told you I’d make it look good.” 

 

{WE THOUGHT YOU WERE DYING-} 

 

[No, YOU thought he was dying. I’m better than that, I’ve been telling you from the fucking start he’s a manipulative _psycho, but no one listens to me-_ ] 

 

The injured man stopped breathing, the paramedics were freaking out, people were bringing their own wounded friends to the doors, Spidey still lay in his arms, head rested against his shoulder, exacerbating the wound in his mouth by pulling at it with his teeth so he could imitate coughing up more blood letting out an almost inaudible, “Make me proud,” before Wade shoved him into the ambulance doors and slammed them shut over people’s interfering hands, not giving a single shit if any of them got hurt. He’d been told not to kill anyone, injuring people was not prohibited. 

 

The ambulance took off even as desperate people chased after it holding the corpses of their loved ones, of their partners in crime. 

 

{He wants us to fix _this?_ } 

 

[No, he wants you to pretend to be something you’re not so that he can use you to his advantage-] 

 

“Maybe. But he doesn’t want me to change around _him,_ just people that don’t matter-” 

 

[HE SHOULDN’T FUCKING MATTER-] 

 

Jean started herding people away from the center of the fight using cars, chairs, anything she could telekinetically manipulate into a makeshift wall. Stark took off after the ambulance and had to stop when someone fired a grenade at the center of his chest. It didn’t break his suit, but the impact sent him careening backwards, straight down into the horde of grieving Death Angel supporters and making him lose sight of the ambulance Spidey was carted off in. Daredevil was the only one seemingly uninjured and fighting people without killing them, but there was only so much the man could do when he was just one person. The Hulk was weakly throwing fists at the people around him, tranquilizers taking effect. Natasha was still moving, but every so often it looked like her balance failed her and she was paler than Wade had ever seen her from the blood loss. Yukio had gone through everyone left within the ring created by Jean and she cut down people ruthlessly without a flicker of emotion on her once sweet innocent face whenever they crossed the new threshold. Logan finally crashed down from one of the high windows in the surrounding buildings with the head of a sniper stuck on his metal claws, apparently taking care of all the above threats the minute one of their own was possibly killed from the shot. It was funny that he’d done that for Spidey, considering Spidey was the reason any of this was happening. The Captain had jumped out of the circle and was running like he might lose everything he had left if he stopped as he chased after Stark yelling for him to stop. Shell shocked death angel supporters in that direction no longer made moves toward him. There had been thousands of them, and now there were only a few hundred left, the snipers appeared to be dead, the helicopters were just background noise in the hell that lay across the streets, and Wade ran to the center of everything. Half of the remaining supporters were frozen and defeated while the other half were high on the thrill of surviving what the others couldn’t and kept marching forward. One particular girl with fire powers was setting buildings aflame, the reflections of it dancing in her eyes as she looked straight forward with a look of hunger. It seemed that only the people who hid themselves away and the people who had some kind of mutant powers or professional reflexes were left and they were all out for blood. The grief-stricken were all slowly coming to the realization that they would either die or go to prison and they had decimated the police force and foreign intelligence representatives, but they hadn’t killed a single Avenger. Those who had no care for their own and had shown up for the fight alone wanted a head on their wall as a prize. 

 

People kept coming forward. 

 

{KILL THEM ALL-} 

 

[Don’t touch any of them. The Avengers are the only ones that could possibly keep you safe. Weasel won’t speak to you after this, those helicopters are live streaming and if you think every mercenary in the world didn’t see you cradle _Spiderman_ in your arms like you just lost a fucking spouse, _you’re an idiot-_ ] 

 

Wade crept to the very front of the ring of the car barrier, weaving through bodies like it was second nature because it _was_ and he dragged up a corpse from the ground with him. He didn’t particularly feel the need to be disrespectful to the dead or anything, but only insanity could battle insanity and Wade knew how to play it _mindfucking crazy._  

 

{Do it! Do it! DO IT! _DO IT!!!_ } 

 

[Oh god, no, not this again-] 

 

{Quit your whining it always works out for the best, it’s our signature move, Whitey!} 

 

[You’re smearing our reputation every time you do this-] 

 

{DON’T FIX IT IF IT AIN’T BROKE-}

 

[Disgusting.] 

 

Wade climbed to the very top of the barrier even as Jean kept building it up higher to protect her own. She paused unsurely when she noticed Deadpool at the edge of it, not knowing which side he was on, and when Wade turned away, he knew she would watch him and stop what she was doing. Cyclops was trying his hardest to give first aid to the wounded Avengers in the circle because his own teammates weren’t injured and it was a sad, _sad_ day when the Avengers were brought so low that the X-Men stood a better chance at survival despite their reputation for losing members even before the Hydra fallout. Daredevil had returned to the circle with a disgusted grimace on the lower half of his face and blood all over his suit and Wade knew it had to have been a horrifying experience for the man to drag himself through the piling corpses, so many that people could actually see the blood on his already red suit. Iron Man was flying back to them with an insane speed, an unconscious Captain America draped over his shoulder, his own helmet chipped off with only half of it still covering his face revealing bloodshot eyes and a look of horror in his gaze as he wildly aimed at anyone wearing black, losing control of his own flight patterns. What the _hell_ had the man seen to reduce him to publicly exposing himself that way? And even as he shot people down with no regard for those who were no longer attacking, those who _were_ did not slow down. 

 

{LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED-} 

 

[Dear fuck, _why?_ ] 

 

Wade laid the corpse he carried down next to him, pulled out one katana, sliced clean through the dead man’s abdomen, and proceeded to _yank out the man’s intestines._  

 

[The smell. The fucking _smell,_ I _hate_ you.] 

 

{That’s the smell of _victory, you weenie!_ } 

 

The people leading the climbing charge stopped in their tracks to projectile vomit as the wave hit them and the people behind them became disgusted with the smell of vomit while those further back stopped in confusion when the people in front stopped moving. 

 

[It works every time. _Why_ does it work every time!?] 

 

{VICTORY SHALL BE MINE!!!!!!} 

 

Wade grinned when he realized he had the attention of everyone remaining and he started to carefully and methodically slice the man’s head down the middle. There were muttered _oh my god’s_ and people who asked what the _fuck_ he was _doing,_ but Wade kept at the display until his Katana reached between the man’s lungs and brain matter poured all the way down the wall onto the few people that hadn’t been disgusted enough earlier to let go. These people had come ready to end lives, sure, but none of them had mentally prepared themselves for the grotesque nature of what Deadpool was capable of. None of them tortured people or knew what it was like to sleep in a room of corpses. None of them were used to the smell. Not a single person there attacked him during the process and Wade could hear some of the supers retching behind him. He absently wondered which ones had such a weak stomach. The fire girl did take the opportunity to set fire to the stage of injured Avengers and Stark unsteadily flew the Captain away from the scene before coming back for the others. Wade had never known the man to abandon ship, but Tony was a different man than he’d once been. The only one with the power to face the fire chick was Jean, but anything she sent flying her way, the masked girl melted mid air before it could reach her. The flames were spreading to the nearest blocks, buildings were collapsing under the onslaught of fire, and anyone with any sense had long since evacuated the area. 

 

[Exactly. That was my fucking point! If you had _any common sense_ you would have evacuated too-] 

 

{Thought you said we couldn’t leave Peter now that he knows we know? Thought you said he would hunt us down?} 

 

[THAT DOESN’T MEAN WE SHOULDN’T TRY-]

 

The air was getting thick with smoke and there were hardly any cops left _alive,_ let alone enough to arrest the remaining three hundred supporters. The Captain was gone and incapacitated and Wade wanted to know what the hell had gone down between him and Stark because only the Captain was strong enough to break the material in half, Natasha was barely alive when Stark came to get her, Bruce was still barely moving in the center of the ring, Cyclops had been using his powers for too long and was screaming from the pain of the world’s worst migraine on steroids. Logan was keeping low to the ground and watching Wade intently, Yukio was behind Logan, leaning against a wrecked car and staring at Wade with a thoughtful expression, the first real emotion Wade had seen in her throughout the entire ordeal flashing across her eyes. Jean was still holding off the fire girl as she was the only one capable of doing so without evaporating into ashes. 

 

The person closest to Wade started to cough and Wade grinned, knowing it would be visible through his mask, levelled his katana under the man’s chin, sharp blade facing up and just barely splitting the skin as he applied a tiny bit of pressure and watched the man’s throat swallow down on dry air in fear. The people behind him were still frozen from the show Wade put on for them. 

 

Wade squatted down, beaming, and asked in a cheerful and encouraging voice, kind of like that of a kindergarten teacher when they asked, _Who’s excited for fingerpainting?,_ “Now! Which one of you wants to fight me?” 

 

{LET SOMEBODY TRY ME-} 

 

[Just throw a grenade and get this over with-] 

 

{BUT YOU SAID PETEY SAID-} 

 

[EVERYONE HERE KILLED SOMEONE TODAY, I THINK WE’RE A LITTLE PAST MORAL DEBATES-] 

 

Wade pressed his katana forward a bit and enjoyed the thin trickle of blood he saw as the man didn’t move. People were taking off their stupid burglar masks now that they couldn’t breathe and Wade got to see all of their terrified expressions as the knowledge that they’d fucked with the wrong person came to them. 

 

“You?” Wade asked, voice still high and excited as the man hastily shook his head in a desperate denial. “No? Okay,” he shrugged and then snapped his head to the side toward a woman with a grenade launcher and no more grenades in her hands, “What about you!?” 

 

She also shook and when she tried to say, “No,” it came out strangled and choked off. 

 

Wade lifted his katana up and away from the man he’d held at the end of it, watched the relief cross the poor guy’s expression, and then turned his weapon and _stabbed himself in the chest._  

 

{OW!} 

 

[Jesus fuck! A little warning next time! For fuck’s sake, why do you always do this-] 

 

People took several steps back and many of them flinched at the action, especially when Wade removed his sword from between his ribs and yelled out, “What about now!? Anyone? I’m injured, that should level the playing field, right? RIGHT!?” 

 

His suit was torn and he knew they had a full view of the flesh knitting itself back together. He started patting himself down with his left hand and let out a manic giggle, “Oops! Not injured anymore!” He quickly unsheathed his second katana and stabbed into both his thighs as once, blood flowing out in little rivers and red waterfalls as he removed the weapons and people looked away from his self-mutilation. His regeneration wasted no time sealing the wounds. “Still no one!? I thought you guys wanted to _play!_ I came out here for a game and _no one wants to play with lil’ old ‘Pool?_ I’m so disappointed I might _cry!”_  

 

Each of them began to back away, no one quite willing to risk a fight with Deadpool, but Wade tilted his head to the side when one guy crept forward among the crowd and corpses. He was wearing a white blood-drenched hoodie and had no weapons to speak of and Wade wondered how in the fuck this guy had survived without one, right up until the guy tilted his head up just enough for his smile to come into view. His matted slightly curled hair hung forward over his eyes as he still wasn’t looking up at Wade, but that smile was unmistakable and Wade’s grin fell as he remembered the next part of the plan. 

 

 _I won’t be going anywhere!_  

 

{PETEY, OH I WAS SO WORRIED-} 

 

[He’s fine! He was FAKING! Fucking Christ!] 

 

People stepped aside in silence, watching this new character with stunned looks because they had no idea who among them was insane enough to walk toward an armed and ready Deadpool with _a fucking smile on his face._  

 

And then Peter looked up at Wade with completely mad _joy_ on his face, the hood fell back revealing the rest of his features, and the floating embers around them made him look so gorgeous that Wade could hardly breathe. 

 

[ _Or_ you’re inhaling smoke from the high altitude. ‘Cause that’s a thing that happens during a fire, in case you forgot-] 

 

{Why do you always have to kill our high, we were having a _moment-_ } 

 

“What about me?” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All the remaining followers looked stunned and honored to be in the presence of their chosen angel and when one person fell down to one knee in an overwhelmed bow, the others followed suit with awe in their eyes. They would die for Peter and his Death Angel _knew it_ and didn’t _care._ He was still smiling up at Wade, waiting for his move. 

 

Deadpool tightened and loosened his grip on his swords once. A couple times. And then, heart beating wildly in his chest, he jumped down and felt his ankles cracking under the impact. It didn’t matter. They would heal in a few seconds. What mattered was that Peter Parker was walking toward him with a bright sharp smile on his face and murder in his eyes and Wade had never wanted any one person more in his entire life. 

 

{If you hurt our Petey-pie I swear to fucking _DEATH-_ } 

 

[Death would not appreciate you using her name in vain, you uncultured swine-] 

 

Yellow started _screaming incoherently_ the moment Wade swung his right sword, but Peter jumped up five feet in the air to avoid the blow and his foot smacked into the left side of Wade’s face in an aerial kick that completely blindsided him. 

 

It was like everyone in the vicinity held their breath, Daredevil made a show of taking the now shrunken human Bruce into his arms and escaping the scene in what _seemed_ like a charitable act but Wade knew was just a cover for choosing not to fight Parker. He _needed_ to find out what the story was there. 

 

Only the X-Men remained and they knew Wade slightly better. They knew not to interfere in his fight. Not that Jean or Cyclops were capable of doing so at the moment, but Yukio and Logan made no effort to do so in their steed. Yukio blew a bubble of gum as she watched and it was so reminiscent of Negasonic Teenage Warhead that Wade felt sorry for her.

 

There was a sharp sting radiating in Wade’s cheek that faded when his powers prevented a bruise from forming beneath his mask and Wade found himself grinning. _So Peter wanted to play like that, huh?_  

 

Before his pretty little ex-convict could even land, Wade dropped a katana and used his now free hand to snatch at Peter’s leg swinging his body into the wall behind them. Peter’s smile didn’t fade as he dragged himself out of the rubbage, in fact, it grew _wider_ and the moment he lifted a car over his head, people gasped and backed away. Supporters ran farther back to watch the spectacle at a safer distance even though the buildings were collapsing. They were loyal and Wade hoped they didn’t die by the end of the day because he needed to find out more about each of them, he wanted them to join Peter’s crusade. Another thing that struck Wade suddenly was that people knew Spiderman was a mutant, but in costume, he never abused his powers for show. He might have lifted heavy things to free other people but he always looked like he was struggling and let go as soon as he could to focus on something else. He never revealed just how strong he was. 

 

Peter lifting a car and throwing it at Wade like a baseball would render people speechless, but no one would make the connection, especially not after watching Spiderman collapse in front of them. 

 

Wade dodged each projectile and secretly reveled in the sound of things falling apart around them. Peter threw one last vehicle at Wade and as Wade dodge beneath it and ran at him, Peter picked up his abandoned katana from the ground and ran at Wade full speed. Peter wasn’t practiced with it, but he was fast with amazing reflexes and Yellow started singing _The Lady In Red_ every time their weapons met and clashed. It was almost like they were dancing in a war zone, leaping after each other over the rooftops of totaled cars and falling back into puddles of blood and human limbs to avoid blows from the other person. 

 

{He’s amazing.} 

 

[He can actually keep up with you with no formal training. How can you not see that as a threat?] 

 

{It’s a threat for sure, but what life is worth living without some danger and spice?} 

 

It was beautiful. 

 

Until Wade swung a little too fast and Peter didn’t react fast enough and his blade almost pierced the chest of the love of his life to the sound of Yellow shouting, _{NO!!!!!}, in the most devastated screech_ Wade had ever heard from him. Before the impact, Peter’s arm came up and he was abruptly yanked out of the way. Wade didn’t even realize what had happened until he saw Peter stuck to the wall of the Times Square billboard right behind the stage. He was hanging by a web and people stared in shock and confusion as he swung himself back toward Wade in uncoordinated movements that seemed so genuinely rocky Wade _almost_ believed the act even though he knew who Peter was at night. 

 

{You. Almost. Killed. Him.} Yellow was absolutely furious. 

 

[You almost ended the Death Angel. It’s over. Oh fuck, it’s all over. He won’t spare you now, this is it, this is the end-]

 

People were watching, Wade could hear the sound of Tony Stark’s suit approaching one more time, and he let every muscle in his body tense as Peter landed unsteadily in front of him, determined to pull off this act the way Peter needed him to, deadset on acting as well as his precious angel of murder could. He held out his one katana in front of him in Peter’s direction and let a trace of fear and hatred enter his voice, a combination he could only manage when he thought of Weapon X and his father, as he asked, “How the _fuck_ did you get those?” 

 

Peter shrugged nonchalantly as he approached him, smile still in place as the wind blew through his hair and droplets of blood fell on the split pavement beneath his feet. He held out his wrists in front of him and grinned, proudly showing them off to Wade from a small distance. “Nice, aren’t they? The guy had some pretty cool gadgets. I’m still getting used to them, but I have a feeling they’re going to be _very_ useful.” 

 

If Wade didn’t already know Spiderman and Peter were the same person, he would have killed Peter Parker on the spot. Instead, he grit his teeth and pulled one of his guns out of its holster on his thigh, leveling it at Peter’s head to Yellow’s outcry of indignation and White’s infinite nervous energy. 

 

“Where. Is. Spiderman.” It did not come out as a question and Wade was grateful for the years of training he’d had at the hands of the special forces. It sounded like a demand, like the kind of question thrown out in a furious interrogation against a terrorist. He supposed that’s technically what Peter was even though Wade loved him for it. His finger tightened ever so slightly on the trigger for show and while his own heart was pounding, he could tell Peter was struggling not to vibrate from the adrenaline of the situation. 

 

{STOP PLAYING THESE GAMES-} 

 

[Shoot him. You’ll never get another chance this good-] 

 

{I’LL FIND A WAY TO KILL YOU, WHITE, I FUCKING SWEAR IT-} 

 

Peter aimed a web at the gun and yanked it out of Wade’s hand, tucking it into his own waist band and chuckling. “See? Useful.” 

 

Wade launched himself at the person he loved but Peter dropped low, placing most of his weight on his right leg just as Wade came within range and threw Wade over his shoulder, snapping the bones in his upper arm and making him scream bloody murder as he hit the ground graclessly. The sole of Peter’s stolen shoe planted itself in the center of Wade’s chest, crushing his ribs and making it impossible to breathe properly, but Wade still choked out, “Where… is… Spiderman?” 

 

He could feel the blood trickling into his lungs, the sensation familiar and distressingly warm as always. 

 

Logan was vaulting himself over the wall, Yukio was walking carefully down the wreckage without a care in the world, Jean was finally pinning down the girl on fire who had run out of steam for her powers, and Iron Man was just at the edge of the billboard, headed straight for Wade from above in a crooked line. 

 

None of them would get there on time and Wade knew it, Peter would be long gone. 

 

But they were all close enough to hear Peter’s maniacal, _euphoric laughter_ as he flashed sharp teeth and announced, “Spiderman is dead. I killed him.” 

 

[He’s… making himself a target. He could have said Spiderman bled out and he stole them from the corpse but he’s getting all the attention on him to… to keep it off of you? But why would he-] 

 

{RING. RIGHT THE FUCK AFTER THIS. A FUCKING RING, I HAVE WAITED LONG ENOUGH-} 

 

His eyes were wide and radiant even with the clear instability dancing behind the surface.

 

There was a _devastated_ look on Stark’s face before he aimed his canon mid air. He had obviously had more than his fair share of drinks before the conference and he _missed._ The light was still blinding, but it didn’t kill its intended target and Stark looked _enraged_ when Peter took off using _Spiderman’s_ web shooters. 

 

The moment Wade could breathe again, he left the frozen, haunted forms of the X-Men behind as they took in the fact that what seemed like the youngest hero among those in New York was dead, and he chased after Peter and Iron Man, finding that Iron Man was fifteen blocks away looking desperate and _wild,_ like a rabid dog without its meal. 

 

Peter had escaped his sight. 

 

{My baby is the coolest cucumber in the market-} 

 

[He’s not a cucumber, what is wrong with you-]

 

When Stark locked eyes with Wade, it was like the light faded out of his existence entirely. 

 

“You,” he stated, voice sounding dead and lost, eyes closing tightly as if he could just erase the events of the day if he tried hard enough.

 

{Uhh… is he good?} 

 

[He’s drunk. And a mess. And he failed to get Spiderman under his wing, so-] 

 

Wade swallowed on nothing and stayed silent, waiting for Stark to think of what he wanted to say while also playing the part of a lost, grieving boyfriend with clenched fists and as furious of an expression as he could manage. 

 

Stark finally let himself land on the sidewalk full of debris and the man slid down a wall, eventually seating himself and running a hand through his hair before pulling at it like he wanted to yank out each individual strand. When he finally opened his eyes and saw that Wade was still there, he spoke up again, but his eyes were a lot wetter than before, his voice a whole lot rougher and he said, “You’ll kill him… won’t you? Tell me you’ll kill him. You’re the only one he hasn’t- He respects you. For whatever fucking reason, your immortality or your job, that _psychopath_ respects you enough to not kill you.” It was like Stark wasn’t even seeing Wade anymore, like he was thinking out loud to himself and losing whatever was left of his sanity as he finally focused on Wade completely and grew determined enough to add, “I’ll pay you. I’ll pay you whatever you want. I’ll give you everything, more money than you could ever need, you can have Stark Industries, just _kill him._ Find him, get close enough, and _kill him.”_  

 

{The _fuck we will, fuck you, Tin Can-}_

 

[Why would _we_ assume that responsibility for him-] 

 

Wade almost _growled_ at the man, but then Peter’s request popped in his head and Wade realized this was _exactly what Peter wanted to happen._ This was just the opportunity Wade needed to get Tony Stark, and the other Avengers by default, to trust him. 

 

{Oh. _Oh,_ so he wanted- okay. That’s… scary.} 

 

[Holy fuck, that’s brilliant. That’s… wow.] 

 

Wade felt so happy that White wasn’t spewing negativity over something Peter did, that he was _impressed,_ but he kept the emotion off his face and knelt down in front of Tony Stark, reading the apprehension on the man’s face, and tentatively reaching out a hand to settle it on his shoulder. Stark didn’t move, he just stared Wade down with no emotions apart from desperation and discomfort. 

 

Wade inhaled shakily, like he was a broken man himself, privately enjoying the surprise growing in Tony Stark’s eyes that transformed into shock when Wade fiercely said, “Peter Parker killed Spiderman. You don’t have to pay me a fucking _dime,_ Tin Can. I’m going to tear him limb from limb. Free of charge.” 

 

Stark said nothing else, but Wade saw a flicker of respect and gratitude in the broken shell of a man and he had to bite down the urge he had to grin. 

 

They made their awkward goodbyes after Stark asked for Wade’s business card with his phone number on it, the card he’d rejected so many times before. 

 

Wade quickly made his search for his second katana, finding it a few blocks from the wreck and knowing Peter had left it on a rooftop to keep it from being stolen, but also so that Stark wouldn’t get suspicious when Wade suddenly had both his katanas again even though Parker took off with one. His serial killer was _brilliant_ and _beautiful_ and Wade was the luckiest mercenary in the world. 

 

When he got to his apartment, he opened the door and found a bunch of lanterns strung along webs on the ceiling and rose petals crowded all over his floor. 

 

He grinned when Peter looked up at him from his lounging position on the couch and beamed at him, saying, “You know, Jean, Wolverine, and that Yukio girl managed to catch and arrest the last twenty or so people on site. The majority of the last couple hundred or so got away and I’m gonna have to live stream a video at some point addressing it, but I can find them based on the images of their faces, and I need to find out more about about that fire girl, too-” 

 

Wade sat on the remaining space on the couch and smiled softly as he listened to Peter’s ramblings until Peter noticed how quiet he was. He quieted down and slowly moved over to fill the space of Wade’s lap, hands coming up to gently hold either side of Wade’s face and softly pull his mask up and over his head until the leather was off of him entirely and Peter could meet his eyes. “You were perfect for me today,” he confessed, eyes darting between Wade’s blue ones as he waited for Wade to react. 

 

{He’s so perfect, how can someone this perfect be real, how could we get so lucky-} 

 

[He's… strange.] 

 

Wade smiled, in part because that was the nicest thing White had ever said about Peter, but mostly because of what _Peter_ said. “I know,” he replied, voice lilting triumphantly as he whispered, “You’re mine now, you promised, no take backsies.” 

 

Peter leaned closely into him, so close Wade felt like he could breathe in the scent of iron from the blood on his skin and he tried one more time to warn Wade off with a nearly silent, “I’m the worst thing you could possibly want for yourself. I’m a psychopath, Wade.” 

 

Wade didn’t think that was true, but he kept that to himself because he didn’t think Peter was ready to let go of the notion and he just chuckled quietly and replied, “Then you’ll be _my_ psychopath.” 

 

Peter blinked twice, like he’d never thought Wade could _actually_ want him with all his flaws and imperfections, and then he leaned forward and stole what little control Wade had left over his breathing in a searing kiss that made him lose all functionality. 

  
Peter didn’t love him. Wade knew that. But he also knew that one day Peter _would_ and while Wade didn’t think Peter would say yes any time soon, he didn’t mind the idea of appeasing Yellow with a ring one bit, and for the first time since the prison riot, White didn’t warn him off from the impulse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY EVERYONE, I know this is like at the very end of Tuesday for my time zone so it's almost late but not quite. Thank you for your patience, this took me forever and a half to write today and it's so much longer than usual, like over 7,500 words, Geez, but it's here and I'll edit mistakes if I see them later in the week I don't have the energy right now but PLEASE GIVE ME COMMENTS I AM A GREEDY HUMAN AND I NEED THEM, let me know what you liked or what shocked you or how you felt about the whole thing. 
> 
> Also, I promised a theme playlist for Sharp Teeth so here are 51 songs I listened to in the making of Sharp Teeth that I felt matched the general feeling or the motivations/perspectives of individual characters:  
> 1) Nightcore- Can't Help Falling In Love [NV| DARK VERSION]  
> 2) Moncrieff- Serial Killer  
> 3) Sam Tinnesz- Play With Fire (feat. Yacht Money)  
> 4) Crazy In Love (Male Version)- Sofia Karlberg  
> 5) Nightcore- Every Breath You Take (Deeper Version) Chase Holdfelder  
> 6) Halsey- Control (Male Version)  
> 7) Nightcore- Black Sea [Male Version]  
> 8) Iron Butterfly- In A Gadda Da Vida  
> 9) PLACEBO- My Sweet Prince  
> 10) Bryce Fox- Horns  
> 11) Sickick- Bermuda  
> 12) Sickick- Mind Games  
> 13) 8 Graves- RIP  
> 14) 8 Graves- Numb  
> 15) 8 Graves- OK  
> 16) 8 Graves- Beast  
> 17) Drowning Pool- Bodies (Let The Bodies Hit The Floor)  
> 18) Three Days Grace- Animal I Have Become  
> 19) ULmadM5 Nightcore- Everybody Wants To Rule The World [HD] (LORDE Cover)  
> 20) Digital Daggers- The Devil Within  
> 21) Claire Wyndham- My Love Will Never Die  
> 22) "Shoot to Kill" (feat. QUIVR)// Produced by Tommee Profitt  
> 23) SVRCINA- Who Are You?  
> 24) Nightcore- Meet Me On The Battlefield (Male) SVRCINA  
> 25) Of Monsters And Men- Love, Love, Love  
> 26) Ruelle- Monsters  
> 27) Teeth- Nightcore (Male Version)  
> 28) Grandson- Blood In The Water  
> 29) Nightcore- Cradles [NV] U N D E R D O G S- Sub Urban  
> 30) Skrillex- First Of The Year (Equinox)  
> 31) Evanescence- Bring Me To Life (Teminite & The Arcturians Remix)  
> 32) Tails & Iverness- Skeleton (feat. Nevve)  
> 33) Kaleo- Way Down We Go  
> 34) Nightcore- Gangsta [Male Version]  
> 35) Ava Max- Sweet But Psycho  
> 36) U N D E R D O G S Nightcore- Revolution  
> 37) Thousand Foot Krutch- Courtesy Call  
> 38) Three Days Grace- Riot  
> 39) Julia Michaels- Issues  
> 40) Jen Titus- O' Death  
> 41) You Me At Six- Take On The World  
> 42) Can You Hold Me- NF ft. Britt Nicole  
> 43) Scorpions- No One Like You  
> 44) Sickick- Lost My Way  
> 45) Stratus- I Wonder How It'll End  
> 46) Moncieff- Symptoms  
> 47) Nightcore- Walk Through The Fire (Deeper Version)  
> 48) Nightcore- Bleeding Out (Male Version) SVRCINA  
> 49) Fluerie- Breathe  
> 50) Alice Kristiansen- Lost My Mind [Male Version]  
> 51) Nightcore- Set Me Free [NV] 
> 
> If you guys know other songs that fir the general mood, feel free to add them in the comments :) 
> 
> The lovely Grim on tumblr sent me fanart for this chapter and I was planning to link it and then the next day I get fanart of THE SAME SCENE from one of my readers: Mia_Peachr and guys I'm just. AND @lordavon sent me the third fanart image. GUYS. Do you even understand I got three fanart images for the same scene, this is my best moment. I'm screaming I'm so in love with all of this. 
> 
> All my love, Katana.


	11. You Love Me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is literally all sex. This entire freaking chapter is sex. Hades. What the hell have I done?

Wade slid his hands along the edge of Peter’s spine, completely dazed by his presence and just eager to touch him, to feel him against his body and know that Peter _wanted him._  

 

Yellow was a sobbing mess, no words, just incoherent babbling and White was dead silent. 

 

It was the happiest moment of Wade’s life to date, because Peter’s lips were soft and pliant against his, biting so lightly that the edges of his canines dragged against Wade’s bottom lip but didn’t draw blood, his breaths warm and stifled as he explored Wade’s mouth with his tongue, all messy and wet and Wade was melting under the sensations. Wade let his fingertips drag down toward his pretty murderer’s thighs, taking hold of them and forcing their bodies closer, gasping when their clothed erections ground together and Peter moaned this pretty little sound into his mouth. His hands dipped down to the edge of his stolen white hoodie and he made a show of putting a fragment of a distance between them, lips red and kiss swollen, crossing his arms in front of his body as he took hold of the hem and slid the stained article of clothing up, never breaking eye contact as he revealed more and more pale skin littered in a design of thin white scars that made Wade’s breath stutter and his grip on Peter’s thighs tighten. 

 

{WHAT ARE THOSE FROM, WHAT THE FUCK, WHO THE FUCK-} 

 

[Don’t say anything, he didn’t say shit about yours-] 

 

There was a large scar just beneath Peter’s left collarbone, right above where his heart would be and it was thick, shaped like a jagged slash of raised, calloused skin. Someone had tried to kill his Baby Boy and tear out his heart, using his own moves against him and Wade was _furious,_ but Peter was meeting his eyes, stare darting between them as if he was waiting for Wade to say something, to make a comment, as if he thought _Wade_ would judge him for his scars when Wade was more scar than man, so Wade said nothing and leaned forward, kissing the center of the mark that experience left on the love of his life, tongue flicking out over the area as he glanced up to see Peter’s reaction and saw a tiny smile forming on his lips. 

 

The hoodie was bunched up in Peter’s right hand, but he discarded it without a second thought, one hand skimming the surface of Wade’s exposed skin. Wade didn’t like having sex with people a lot of the time, because they generally didn’t want to touch him, because even if they did every movement was tinged with the weight of their hesitation, with the grimaces they made, with the way their fingers stuttered over Wade’s scars if they shifted. Peter didn’t hesitate. Peter didn’t _care._ His hand glided over the rough surface as if it was made from marble, delicate explorations that trailed from Wade’s neck to his jaw, a thumb pressing against Wade’s bottom lip as Peter’s eyes zeroed in on the movements he caused, on the way Deadpool’s chest rose up unsteadily as he tried to keep his breathing under control. He leaned in, head tilting slightly to the left, eyes half-lidded, and slotted their mouths together, tongue darting out to glide over Wade’s teeth with a grin Wade could feel against his own before Wade let his tongue do the same and shivered when Peter took to opportunity to make a low content sound as he wrapped his lips around it, sucking slowly and methodically in a mesmerizing imitation of what he _could_ be doing if they had less clothes on. 

 

When he eased away and parted with one last taste against Wade’s appendage, Wade whined at the loss and chased after him. Peter grinned at the motion and Wade knew he was wrapped around Spidey’s little finger but he _did not care in the slightest._  

 

{He’s so fucking beautiful, how did we get this lucky-} 

 

[He’s touching you. Not grazing, like actual human touches like he’s not repulsed by the idea of you on him. What… what is _wrong with him?_ ] 

 

{NOTHING! He’s perfect!} 

 

[He’s… someone hurt him. Not just a murder attempt, someone had to have hurt him for this to be something he’s okay with-] 

 

Wade flinched and Peter took his face in the palms of his hands and said, “Don’t listen to them. Whatever they’re telling you. I’m here, I’m yours, why aren’t you taking me, Wade?” 

 

Wade slit his eyes open and buried his face into Peter’s neck, delighting in the smell of blood and sweat because it reminded him of their public fight and the sight of Peter using his own sword against him. It was everything he needed. He replied with a rough, “You want to be taken, Baby Boy? I can take you everywhere, show you the fucking _world-”_  

 

Peter snorted from above him and let his nails scratch lightly on the skin under Wade’s earlobes. “I don’t want the world, Wade. You’re supposed to fuck me. We should be fucking right now. I should be on the floor,” he stared at Wade intensely, eyes dark and hooded and wearing some emotion Wade couldn’t decipher as he went on with the words, “I should be under you, you should be inside of me, I’m supposed to leave marks on your back that your healing factor takes a bit longer to fix than usual. Don’t you want me, Wade?” 

 

Wade did want him. Wade wanted him so much, but he didn’t want him on the floor, he didn’t want them to be fucking, he wanted romance and mood setting and when he walked into a room full of laterns and rose petals he thought that Peter wanted the same. 

 

{JUST DO AS HE ASKS, WHY ARE YOU HESITATING, YOU FUCKING STONE-} 

 

[Find out what he really wants, this isn’t… right.] 

 

Wade rested his hands on the soft skin of Peter’s lower back, meeting that look of confusion and saying, “Petey, I want you more than life, but I don’t… maybe we should be in the bedroom? We can have a little romance? Some foreplay?” 

 

Peter stared at him, no sign of comprehension in his eyes as he nodded sharply just once and carefully picked himself up from where he’d been on Wade’s lap, walking toward the bedroom with swaying hips and a seductive glance over his shoulder that _seemed_ real but didn’t feel genuine as he replied, “Whatever you want, Wade. Let’s do that.” 

 

{LISTEN. TO. HIM. He’s asking to be fucked, why are you not inside of him RIGHT NOW?} 

 

[He doesn’t want this. He wants to do it for you but he doesn’t actually want it. He might be hard but he’s not into it, I knew it was too good to be true, he finds you disgusting and only a rough fuck could get his mind off of the fact that he’s doing this with _you_ of all people-] 

 

{It’s a lie! Infamy! BULLSHIT! He’s the one who offered-} 

 

[Why? He said you were perfect for him today. This is a reward system, he’s training you like a fucking dog-] 

 

Wade made his legs take one step after another toward his room where he knew Peter was waiting for him. He took a deep breath, resigned himself to going to bed with blue balls and opened the door to start a conversation about why this wasn’t the right thing to do. 

 

That plan submerged and _died_ the moment Wade walked into his room to find that Peter had stripped down to nothing but his web shooters, sitting back on his knees, backside facing the doorway, facing _Wade_ as Peter sent that beautiful sharp grin his way. The thin scars from before were over his back too, skinny, but longer than the ones of his chest and abdomen, lining his muscles like someone carved into the skin, tracing the lines of his anatomy for entertainment. But none of that registered as much as the look of anticipation Peter was sending his way. There was something else in the look but Wade couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was and it looked so foreign in Peter’s features that he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to ask. He slowly approached, hypnotized by the sight of Peter on his bed, _naked on his bed,_ and when Wade got close enough he realized that Peter had locked his own web shooters around his wrists and shot out a short strand of webbing, locking himself to the nearest bed post. He was strong enough to break himself out, and Wade knew he probably had a feature to make them _not resemble handcuffs,_ but the idea that Peter, even for a bloody _moment,_ trusted Wade enough to make himself vulnerable to his whims made Wade want to fall to his knees and worship him. 

 

{THEN. WHY. THE FUCK. DON’T YOU?} 

 

[He doesn’t want to be worshipped, he wants you to hurt him. Something is _wrong._ ] 

 

But Wade couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to _touch,_ hands shaking where they made contact with Peter’s hips, thumbs caressing over the shape of his ass like he couldn’t believe he was _allowed to_ and was scared of abusing the right. 

 

Peter didn’t stop him, just watched his ministrations with amusement as he asked, “Do you like it?” 

 

Wade’s voice was rough, deep and unsteady, as he answered with a short, “Marry me.” 

 

Peter’s laugh rang out, {Like _bells}_ Yellow supplied for the millionth time, but White made the first commentary on Peter’s laugh that Wade had ever heard him make with an insistent, [It’s not as cheerful. It’s… _nervous._ ] 

 

“We both regularly break the law, you wouldn’t get any tax benefits.” 

 

“I don’t need them, I’m rich.” 

 

“You’d be tied to a fugitive.” 

 

“You’d be tied to a mercenary, I think that’s an even trade.” 

 

Even as Wade held up the conversation, the boxes were screaming at each other and it was distracting. Peter grinned at him and turned his body slightly to face Wade better.

 

"Funny how you want to get married. We haven't even had sex," he reminded Wade, a teasing smile on his face.

 

{People get nervous when they’re going to fuck! It’s normal!} 

 

[No, not this much. Not _him._ He started this, he _offered_ and no one who went to prison is a virgin so he doesn’t have that excuse- oh. Oh.] 

 

{What…?} 

 

[Oh that makes so much sense, wow, this is fucked up, he went to prison when he was sixteen, tried as an adult, and he never revealed he was a mutant. Did he have to bite back his protests and his strength while they-] 

 

Yellow audibly gasped and whispered a horrified, _{No…}_  

 

Wade stopped his approach instantly and all but shut down. 

 

There was no way Peter would have allowed that. No way any prisoner would have _dared,_ but the idea kept circling in his mind and Wade wanted it not to be true. He wanted to show Peter how much he loved him and this wasn’t going to stop him, so he tried his hardest to tune out the boxes and focus on the sight before him, flipping Peter over and yanking him toward Wade so that his arms were raised on either side of his head and he was grinning widely again, pleased that Wade was doing what he wanted. Wade started biting at his skin, tonguing at his hip bones, scratching at the inside of pale alabaster thighs and situating himself on the ground between Peter’s legs, fully aware that if Peter wanted to snap his neck with his thighs he would be perfectly capable, and drunk off of the knowledge that someone so powerful, so _strong_ was letting him do this. He kissed at the space between Peter’s thighs and his dick, face nuzzling the side of his cock, so pretty and pink and perfect and Peter started growling at him to, _“Fucking do something, Wade-”_  

 

But Wade wanted to make him feel good, wanted to make this last as long as possible so he kept at his infinitely frustrating dance, grinning when Peter’s hips snapped up from the mattress and licking a single stripe up his cock just to see him shiver and curse when Wade pulled away. He rummaged through his night stand and brought out a bottle of lube, coating his fingers liberally and cooing at Peter, telling him to be patient. When Peter saw what Wade was doing, a look of utter confusion crossed his face and he watched Wade intently, legs spreading instantly when Wade kneeled between them, body pliant when Wade sucked at the inside of his right thigh hard enough to leave a nice purple bruise that Peter would feel for days every time he so much as moved in a seated position, every time he walked anywhere. 

 

Peter froze up, however, when Wade’s middle finger circled his entrance. He looked down at Wade and blinked slowly, twice, before asking, “What are you doing?” 

 

Wade looked down at himself and realized he was still in his suit and exclaimed, “Oh! Right! I need to bring my sex pistol to the party!” 

 

Peter started cracking up, laughter shaking his smaller frame as he looked at Wade like he was an idiot, but that slight flash of emotion stuck in his eyes and Wade was desperate to understand what it was. 

 

[That’s not what he’s concerned about-] 

 

{Shut up! You’re not always right! You’ve been _wrong before-_ } 

 

[But I’m not wrong now.] 

 

He hastily unzipped his pants, trying to figure out what exactly was bothering his baby about this experience without making his own hesitations obvious and Peter shook his head and groaned, kicking at Wade’s hip and stating, “No clothes! I don’t want to be the only one naked here!” 

 

He glared at Wade for good measure and Wade slowly pulled off his suit, trying to stall because he knew Peter was hard and waiting but Wade wasn’t sure what to expect anymore and Peter must have seen his discomfort because he smiled softly at Wade and confessed, “I like your skin, Wade. It feels like mine does when I killed someone and their blood dried on my skin. It’s not the best feeling in the world, but it’s satisfying, knowing that I did that, knowing that I did something good,” his eyes drifted shut as he wrapped his legs around Wade’s waist and hauled him closer, getting Wade to collapse over his body and seemingly enjoying the weight, “That I’m the only one you want like this. That I’m the _only one,”_ he emphasized, kissing Wade's temple now that he was close enough to do so as he whispered the rest in his ear, “That gets to map out your skin.” 

 

He had completely missed what Wade was  _actually_ worried about. 

 

He nibbled on Wade’s earlobe and added, “Tell me you’d never kill me, Wade.” 

 

{He… what? Of course we would never… what?} 

 

[Oh. So murder or talk of murder is part of the bedroom too, huh? He’s fucking made for you. This is ridiculous.] 

 

It was the first request Peter made that actually sounded genuine so Wade did it. He let his fingers scape out the surface of Peter’s back, his thighs, his ass, tracing every scar and sucking a series of hickies onto Peter’s chest, enjoying the little gasps of appreciation he received every time he mumbled, _“I would never kill you, Baby Boy, you’re everything, want to kill for you, want to die for you, want to murder the fucking world for you-”_

 

Peter’s hips were rutting up against his, and Wade couldn’t help the groan he let out against Peter’s skin when he grinded up against Wade forcefully, their erections sliding against each other with each little movement. He sounded _desperate_ when his arms started straining against his own webs and he tugged uselessly at his self made handcuffs, whining out, _“Wade-_ Wade, tell me- tell me you wouldn’t kill me- you’re the only person in the world that wouldn’t kill me-” 

 

It wasn’t necessarily true, but even his worshippers would try to kill Peter if he turned on them or their families and Wade would never stop loving Peter. Even if Peter killed him, Wade would remain exactly where he belonged. So he gripped Peter’s hips hard enough to bruise as they rutted against each other and Wade whispered into Peter’s ear over and over, _“I would never kill you, Petey. Webs, Spidey, Darling, I would never kill you, I would never even hurt you-”_  

 

And Peter had what felt like a seizure in his arms, high off the sound of Wade’s voice but when he opened his eyes again Wade could see that same lingering emotion and he started panicking, because whatever that feeling was, it wasn’t _good._  

 

{It could be! You don’t know that! Did you see the show he just put on for us? Of course he feels good!} 

 

[It’s bullshit, it’s just that _, a show._ He came, but it was because he was rutting like a wild animal, not because he enjoyed it. The second you said you wouldn’t hurt him he froze up and the look came back. He doesn’t fucking believe you-] 

 

Wade couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to do and the boxes were loud and when Spidey looked at him he instantly tightened his hold on Wade, legs locked in place around his hips as he noticed that Wade was still hard and commanded, “ _Fuck me, Wade,”_ in the softest tone Wade had ever heard from him, honey smooth, like silk. 

 

It was almost hypnotizing, but Wade breathed heavily and tried not to leak more against the mess between them. He let his forehead touch Peter’s ribs for a moment and just mumbled a bewildered, “Okay,” because he _wanted to,_ but he didn’t know why it felt so wrong to follow through. 

 

He reached for the lube a second time and Peter’s confusion returned, a twitch in his eyebrow, his lips thinning like he was angry at something and then his eyes narrowed and he finally asked, “Seriously, why do you keep doing that?” 

 

Wade blinked, a bit startled, fingers dripping lube as he awkwardly hovered over Peter’s body. “I’m… trying to fuck you?” 

 

{That is the least sexy thing anyone’s ever said in the middle of sex, don’t _try,_ just _do!_ You ruin everything!} 

 

[No, no, this is good. There needs to be a conversation here-] 

 

Peter glared at him accusingly and argued, “No, you’re not. You’re trying to finger me. It’s not the same thing. I don’t need more foreplay just get to it-” 

 

 _“No,”_ Wade growled, and Peter went stock still beneath him, eyes wide and suddenly disoriented. Wade instantly regretted his tone and shoved himself away, reaching down for one of his katanas and slicing through Peter’s webbing, bringing his boyfriend close and lifting his arms so that even cuffed together they could wrap around Wade’s neck for support and Wade hugged him close and whispered comforting things in his ear until Peter started moving again. 

 

When Peter finally came out of whatever weird zone he’d entered he sounded so defeated as he whispered, “And why won’t you fuck me?” 

 

Wade pulled slightly away and saw actual _tears_ rising in his Bambi’s eyes and he instantly hated himself for putting them there as he replied, “No, Petey, of course I want to fuck you, but- Baby, I’m _not_ going to just go in and hurt you like that, I don’t ever want to hurt you-” 

 

“It’s supposed to hurt!” Peter snarled at him, arms lifting over Wade’s head and wrist cuffs detaching as he pressed his thumbs to the center to release them, crawling away and still yelling, “It always hurts! But you earned it and I’m _trying_ to give you what you deserve because of everything you’ve done for me, but I don’t fucking know what _you want! Just fuck me! It’s not hard!_ It wasn’t hard for anyone else so just do it-” 

 

Wade chased after Peter into the living room and wrapped his arms around him from behind, not letting him leave and sighing in relief when Peter allowed it and sagged against him tiredly. “You don’t really want me, do you? There’s no way to repay you for what you did, I’m just going to be in your debt forever.” 

 

{Oh, he… he thinks it’s a _trade?_ But we wouldn’t use him for-} 

 

[You fucking dumbasses. He went to prison when he was _sixteen._ Everything is a trade in lock up, _of course he thinks it’s a trade._ ] 

 

Wade let himself kiss the back of Peter’s neck at the very top of his spine. He didn’t respond, but he grabbed hold of Peter’s hips and ground his cock against him, trying to stave off his own urges as he carefully dragged his cock against Peter’s opening, drawing soothing little circles into his skin with his thumbs as he continued to kiss his skin. He didn’t fuck into him, lowering his jaw slightly instead to let his tongue trace one of Peter’s longer scars, the one tracing the bottom of his back muscle. He traced it twice before Peter started making impatient noises and Wade let his hand inch its way across the expanse of Peter’s skin until he took hold of him, wrapping his right hand around him and pumping slowly, in a grip that was featherlight and useless for actually getting off. He didn’t want Peter to come a second time like before. He just focused on biting at his flesh, leaving a painting of red marks and blues that blended together on the clear skin, forming around the thin white scars like little puddles of blood, so fucking _pretty_ that Wade never wanted to stop, but Peter was shaking in his hold, muttering, “Wade, Wade, _Wade, please-”_  

 

“Are you mine, Petey?” 

 

“W-what? What the fuck does that have to do-” 

 

Peter tried to turn to look at him but Wade dropped low and shoved Peter against the back of the couch, bending him over in one swift motion and biting sharply at his left ass cheek in a tiny reprimand. He didn’t know how Peter would react, but Wade was _praying_ for a positive reaction. The way his cock twitched in Wade’s hold was a good sign. The way he turned his head to glare at Wade wasn’t, but his pupils were blown and his skin was a beautiful hue of warm pink that made Wade impatient with his own plan. He let his tongue out lewdly to lick over the area he’d just bitten and Peter turned _red_ at the action, staring in disbelief at Wade as he insisted, “Tell me you’re mine, Peter. You promised. You said you were mine.” 

 

Peter clung to the cushions of the couch in front of him and turned away, mumbling, “I’m yours.” 

 

Wade bit sharply at his other cheek, enjoying the mewl it produced, the way Peter twitched in his hold again and his hips stuttered, the way his hair draped down just slightly around his face as he breathed in raggedly and Wade demanded, “Say it again, Bambi. Tell me you’re mine.” 

 

Peter took in a long breath and said, just a decibel louder than before, “I’m yours.” 

 

Wade dragged his tongue over the bite mark in a reward and enjoyed the feeling of the indents of his own teeth on Peter’s reddened skin. 

 

“Can I do whatever I want with you?” Wade asked, voice low and curious because he didn’t know what Peter would say and if he wanted this to go the way he pictured, Peter _needed_ to agree. 

 

Peter hesitated and Wade bit sharply at the crease where his ass met the top of his inner thigh and Peter practically shouted, “Yes! _Yes,_ you can do whatever you want, you were perfect and I’m yours. I promise! _I swear-”_

 

He realized then, that the emotion he’d been seeing flicker over Peter’s eyes, that the slight inflection of his voice Wade was catching, was _fear._ Peter wanted it, but he was _afraid because he said it always hurt so he just wanted to get the pain over with and Wade was going to kill someone._ He’d even said _everyone else,_ because there had been multiple people using him and never having the fucking _decency_ to make sure it was good for Peter too. 

 

Wade let his tongue trace over the new indents his teeth left behind on Peter’s skin and didn’t draw back, didn’t pull away to ask anything, didn’t warn Peter about what was about to happen. Warmth dipped into the cleft of Peter’s ass as Wade used his left hand to part his cheeks and bury his face in. Wade could _feel_ Peter’s shock as he tried to jump but the hand Wade had wrapped around his cock let go and held his hip in a death grip, knowing Peter would probably see the marks of his fingerprints for days. He heard the sound of his cushion seams tearing open as Peter balled his fists around the fabric and moaned shamelessly. 

 

He was panting, his back muscles shifting under his scars with every breath he took as he forced out the words, “What- _Wade,_ that’s so _dirty-_ you can’t- _fuck please, please, don’t stop-”_

 

Wade fought a grin as he licked at Peter’s hole, dragging his teeth against the rim and loving the way Peter just shook in his hold, arching his back and pushing himself backwards as much as he could to give Wade better access to him. Deciding that he needed to up the ante, Wade let go of his grip and took two handfuls of Peter’s ass, squeezing roughly and reveling in the gasp that Peter let out, head thrown back as Wade’s tongue dipped inside of him, coating his inner walls in saliva, drenching him from the inside out, sucking at the skin surrounding his hole and feeling like his dick was going to fucking _fall off_  from how long he’d been waiting to get off, but he wasn’t the priority here. He was going to make Peter feel good even if he _did_ have to grow a new dick. 

 

{No! The last time _sucked ass!_ Ha! Get it? _Sucked ass, because we’re-_ } 

 

[Dear fucking Christ. Not even during oral? You won’t stop during fucking oral? Are you _serious?_ ] 

 

{What? It was funny!} 

 

Wade moved his tongue in and out rapidly, burying himself deeper with every entrance and letting it drag along Peter’s insides roughly until his tongue was fully buried in Peter’s ass and his pretty little killer’s legs were trembling violently, so much so that Wade was pretty sure that if he wasn’t holding his convict up with fistfuls of his ass, Peter would have already collapsed on the ground. 

 

Peter's high, broken moans were giving him _life._ _He_ was the reason for this. He was the one that made Peter sound like he could die from this alone and judging by the way Peter acted about sex, Wade was the first and only man to make him feel like this. It made him want to kill everyone who had touched Peter before in his life, but it also made him want to blissfully remain in this moment forever. His dick was throbbing and he knew Peter was on the edge, so close and when Peter’s moans started to transition into a keening scream, Wade grabbed hold of the base of his cock and squeezed, not particularly _hard,_ but tightly enough that Peter violently turned and kicked at Wade’s middle, knocking him over and promptly collapsing over Wade’s form because his own legs weren’t capable of holding him up at the moment. 

 

Wade started giggling, laughing quietly then hysterically as Peter forced shaky arms to steady his body over Wade’s chest and let out between harsh breaths and gritted teeth, “I. Will. Murder. You.” 

 

The threatening effect his glare had was ruined by how his irises were almost completely blocked out by blown pupils and how his nails dug into Wade’s chest like he was too desperate to even fathom an actual murder. 

 

“You’re welcome to try,” he answered. 

 

{AHA! GOOD ONE! CUZ WE CAN’T-} 

 

[We’re all well fucking aware we can’t die, Yellow! We’ve _tried._ Take something seriously for _once-_ ] 

 

{Yeah, yeah, ‘ _for once in my miserable life,’_ shitty buzzkill.} 

 

[You INSOLENT-]

 

Wade grinned and watched as utter frustration built up on his Death Angel’s face before Wade let his arms hook under Peter’s thighs so that Peter had no choice but to grip Wade’s shoulders if he didn’t want to fall backwards as Wade stood up. Peter was still breathing harshly, but between each needy breath he _ravaged_ Wade’s neck and shoulders as he bit into him, biting sharply and quickly, opening wounds and scars in retaliation that amused Wade more than anything because he could still feel pain, but if he knew it was coming, it didn’t really register the way it once did. He was desensitized to it and the feeling of Peter’s tongue brushing against his muscle tendons and canines dragging along his collar bones was just making it so much harder to not throw Spidey down and fuck him on the floor. 

 

He barely managed to contain himself until he could bring them back to his bedroom again, throwing Peter down on his back over the mattress and taking hold of his ankles, raising them quickly up against Peter’s head and stealing a rough kiss that was more teeth than tender before saying, “Here’s the deal, Petey. I want you to hold your legs up like this for me, I want you to stay in exactly this position no matter how hard I go, no matter how fast I slide into you,” he smiled proudly when he noticed that Peter _didn’t_ tense up under him at the mention of penetration, “And if you’re a good boy,” he took note of how Peter’s mouth fell open just slightly at the words and decided to file that information away for later, “I’ll show you exactly how well I treat everything that’s _mine.”_  

 

Peter was staring at him with wide eyes, a trail of drool and blood tracing his chin from where he’d lost control of himself, presumably when Wade was eating him out and after when he was so pissed off from not being able to finish that he’d marked Wade the fuck up and it pleased Wade to no end when Peter nodded silently, like being controlled this way and shown what good sex was like had broken his ability to voice anything he wanted. 

 

Wade leaned in close and stole another kiss from him, licking his own blood off his lips as he pulled away and whispering, “Because you’re mine, right, Petey? One more time. Tell me one more time.” 

 

“I…” Peter began, voice cracked from when he’d been screaming, “I’m yours.” 

 

Wade nodded in satisfaction, letting go of Peter’s ankles and grinning widely when Peter instantly lifted his own hands to wrap around them, fingers covering the marks Wade left behind. 

 

He was watching as Wade lubed himself up, Peter was too gone to protest a third time, not that there would have been any point since Wade had touched him so much with lube covered fingers that there were traces of it all over his body, and then Wade lined himself up and Peter tensed, but only briefly. Because Wade whispered, “You’re such a good boy, Petey. So good for me, so  _pretty,_  spreading yourself out for me.” 

 

The second he relaxed, Wade slammed into him and Peter groaned, head thrown back and turned to the right, breathing against the mattress as his chest rose up and down dramatically and his legs trembled in his hold. He had them locked in a grip so tight it must have hurt and Wade had to shut his eyes off from the visual for a moment because if he kept looking at his killer laid out like that, a man that was capable of actually ripping a human heart out of a man’s chest without a second thought, Wade wouldn’t last long at all and he needed this to be good, he needed Peter to _want him,_ to actually genuinely _want him._ When he finally got himself under control and felt like it was safe to open his eyes, Peter was shaking, arms trembling so hard and he looked like he was on the verge of tears as his grip began to fail him and Wade immediately shot a hand out and undid Peter’s hold on both legs, kissing one of Peter’s ankles and praising him with the words, “So good for me, baby. So fucking good for me. Look at you, you held on even when I slammed in like that- _so perfect and beautiful-”_  

 

Peter, hands free now to do what he wanted, brought one lashing out to dig into the last wound to heal on Wade’s shoulder and yanked him forward by the torn skin, blood pouring down his arm during the action and all over both their torsos, growling at him between clenched teeth, canines on full display as he demanded, _“Fuck. Me. NOW.”_  

 

{I _AM ACTUALLY GOING TO DIE HOLY SHIT, THAT’S IT, THAT’S ALL WE NEED FOR A HAPPY GRAVE, BURY ME FUCKING LOW, BABY-_ } 

 

[STOP WITH THE MUSIC, YOU FUCKING GARBAGE-] 

 

Wade didn’t need to be told twice. He slowly drew himself out, biting at Peter’s ankle as he felt his hole clenching around Wade’s cock and making it hard for him to focus. He slammed back in just as he bit down harder, listening to his Death Angel cry out as Wade drew blood, but it was a cry that ended in a choked off gasp and Wade quickly gripped Peter’s base, watching as his _gorgeous little wall crawler_ spasmed on the bed, eyes rolling into the back of his head as red-tinted drool trailed down the side of his face. 

 

He had a feeling he’d hit something absolutely _magical,_ because Peter didn’t even glare at him for cutting off his orgasm, he just breathed unsteadily and scratched at Wade’s abs, almost like a pawing kitten. His pretty little Death Kitten. 

 

When Peter stopped twitching he did give a half hearted glare and said, “Deadpool. Wade, I need- _move._ I _need you to move-”_

 

Wade stayed absolutely still and buried inside of Peter to the fucking hilt. It was agony, but he wasn’t going to move until he got what he wanted. Peter wanted to know what Wade wanted and Wade wasn’t going to stop until it was absolutely fucking clear what he wanted out of this. 

 

“Tell me what I want to hear, Kitten.” 

 

Peter’s glare intensified and he rocked up against Wade, but Wade wrapped a hand around Peter’s neck and squeezed lightly, loving the way Peter’s eyes no longer held any fear whatsoever, because he had believed Wade would hurt him but he knew with complete certainty that Wade would _never_ kill him. _“Bad boy._ Did I tell you to move Petey?” 

 

Peter licked his lips nervously, pink tongue darting out so innocently before he choked out, “I… I’m sorry. I meant- _I meant_ to say _I’m yours.”_  

 

Wade’s hold grew tighter and Peter let out a tiny moan, even as one of his hands came up to tug uselessly at Wade’s fingers. It made Wade feel _high,_ knowing that Peter was strong enough to break his fingers off at their beginning, but wanted Wade’s hand exactly where it was, that he absolutely needed it at the moment. 

 

“One more time, Angel. _Louder.”_  

 

Peter eyes snapped completely open in a look of absolute annoyance and he flipped them over immediately, Wade laying flat on his back on the edge of the bed, one of Peter’s legs bent beside him by his hip while the other foot was still up by Wade’s shoulder, leg stretched out in a way that would have been painful for anyone else but didn’t even _phase_ Peter. He just took a moment to put his arms behind his body in a way that made his shoulders stand out obscenely with Wade’s bruises as Peter used Wade’s thighs to steady his body, shivering over Wade’s cock as Wade twitched inside of him. 

 

Wade had to scratch violently at his own throat to stave off his orgasm because Peter was- 

 

{Literally the most perfect human on Earth? A fucking natural? A tiny sex demon? We’re the luckiest bastards in this bitch-} 

 

[He… actually wants this. Before he said he was just trying to give you what you want, but he snapped and took over. He isn’t trying to repay you or anything stupid anymore, he _actually- holy fuck._ ] 

 

Wade was stunned, covered in blood and lube and Peter’s come from the first time and he never wanted this moment to end. He wanted this to be his life forever. 

 

He chuckled when Peter started shifting his outstretched leg backwards to match the other’s position so he could move the way he wanted to and Peter met his gaze and must have seen something he liked because he let himself fall forward, forearms on Wade’s chest as he whispered faintly, _“I’m yours, Wade. I’m yours.”_  

 

He didn’t just say it once, either. He rocked forward, thighs shaking in tiny vibrations that had Wade’s eyes rolling in the back of his head as he let himself trace every tiny scar Peter had on his body in a way he would never trace his own, listening to Peter gasp out that he was  _Wade's_ with every little motion.

 

Peter started off slowly, getting used to the feeling of Wade inside of him in this particular position, but once he found his spot and let out a broken gasp, he started riding Wade in earnest, spine straightening up as he fucked himself on Wade’s cock like he was _made for it,_ fast and unyielding, even when Wade started shouting at him, “ _Peter! Slow down, I can’t- I’m not going to last if you-”_  

 

But Peter interrupted him with a crazed look, fucking himself so unabadshedly and grinding down _hard,_ not giving a single shit that the bed frame had long since broken under the strain, nails dragging down Wade’s chest in a _delicious sensation_ as he stated, “Yes, you _fucking will._ I’m yours. You said you were gonna- _mmmmph fuck! Yes, god-_ show me how you treat… how you treat whatever’s yours, so- _fuck me, fuck me, fuck me-”_  

 

He punctuated each little,  _"Fuck me,"_ with a squeeze around Wade's cock that made Wade feel like he was losing his mind. He couldn't even tell if Peter was doing it on purpose but  _it was too much._  

 

Wade wrapped his hand around Peter’s neck again and started shifitng his hips up rapidly, his other hand gripping Peter’s dick and thumbing over his slit repeatedly in an effort to make this go by faster because he wasn’t going to be able to hold out for any longer and the very moment Wade felt himself losing control, he saw Peter’s mouth fall open in a sound of _pure ecstacy_ and Wade didn’t just fall over the edge, he fucking skydived. 

 

His hands fell at his sides, movements completely out of his control as he just focused on keeping his eyes open to watch Peter fall apart above him, blood all over his lips, staining his skin and his scars and tainting his bruises and none of it made him look any less perfect when he opened his eyes just halfway and looked down at Wade with a dreamy little smile full of blood-stained teeth. 

 

{You still haven’t bought a ring, how many times do I have to ask you before you realize this is something that needs to be done post fucking haste-} 

 

[We’re not leaving right after the kid’s first good experience with sex, not even to buy a ring, Yellow. Jesus fuck, have some _class._ ] 

 

{I have class! I am super classy!} 

 

[Singing barbie girl isn’t classy.] 

 

{Big words from the guy who once spent a good week singing lyrics by Smash Mouth-} 

 

[IT WAS A PHASE-] 

 

When Peter collapsed onto Wade’s chest, completely uncaring of the mess between them, Wade realized that Peter was just as used to occasionally lying in filth as he was, and the comparison made him smile into Peter’s wild curls. 

 

Peter wrapped his arms around Wade’s waist and Wade saw no problem with that, content to bask in the happiness he had with the person he loved. 

 

Until he remembered the point of holding off for so long. 

 

“Petey-pie?” he started, voice carefully devoid of any worried undertones.

 

“Hmm?” Peter asked, not even glancing up from the hollow of Wade’s throat where his head rested. 

 

“You don’t owe me anything," he clarified. "I would never use you, or hurt you. I don’t want to keep you here if you don’t want to be here. I…” 

 

{SAY IT!} 

 

[DON’T SAY IT, IT WILL NOT GO WELL, I’M WARNING YOU!] 

 

He opted to say nothing, but then Peter nosed at his throat the way the lions did to each other in the fucking Lion King and Wade got all choked up with _feelings_ and Peter tiredly pushed himself up on his forearms, looking at Wade with deep brown eyes full of satisfaction and something unbearably gentle and Wade couldn’t even think of anything to say to cover up his emotions. It turned out that he didn’t have to because Peter watched him for all of two seconds and then declared, “You love me.” 

 

He sounded… amazed, like he’d never thought that was possible, like no one ever really knew him and loved him in spite of his needs and desires and terrible life choices, but he believed it now, that someone, _Wade,_ was capable of loving him. 

 

Wade swallowed on nothing and held Peter like a lifeline, terrified he would decide Wade wasn’t worth the hassle of being loved, but Peter just buried his head back against Wade’s throat with a second nuzzle and mumbled sleepily, _“Good.”_

 

It wasn’t a promise of love, it wasn’t even a guarantee of monogamy, but Wade still felt his heart beating a bit too fast and he knew, realistically, that there was no way Peter wouldn’t hear it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay real talk, let's have a discussion about how damn hard I tried this chapter guys this is 7,010 WORDS OF PURE DAMN SMUT DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND- Smut is not my forte, it's not even something I would usually do and I nearly cried today, but it's here. Please love me. 
> 
> I just want to say that If there are mistakes I will fix them later, I don't have the energy today. 
> 
> Arkickulate on the Spideypool Discord helped me FINALLY figure out how to embed fanart and size it properly and guys go check out chapters eight, and ten because it's so freaking beautiful I want to cry.
> 
> PLEASE FEED ME COMMENTS. 
> 
> Also, as of September first I will be going under a new schedule, so I will be updating Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, meaning Sharp Teeth will be a Thursday fic. Just wanted to keep you guys in the loop. 
> 
> All the love, Katana.


	12. Death Puppy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is on a mission and Wade is playing guardian angel to the hospitalized Avengers.

Wade didn’t necessarily _like_ being around the Avengers. They had never been very accepting of him and that may have changed, but the change wasn’t the best one. They had seemed surprised to see him visiting in the hospital, armed with the flowers Peter told him to bring, but none of them could stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time and it seemed that both Natasha and Bruce appreciated having someone around. Steve didn’t look all that happy to see Wade, he barely even seemed to notice him, eyes darting around the room anytime he woke up, and Wade just knew that poor guy was looking for Stark because he always looked a little more dead in the eyes when he saw no one else in the room. 

 

{He’s in _luuuuuuuuurve-_ } 

 

[Guy has got it _bad_ for the toaster.] 

 

The mental image of Stark dressed up as a toaster wasn’t helping Wade focus on pretending he was a grieving mess, so he tried to focus on the team dynamics instead. 

 

He knew that once Stark heard that his teammates were somewhat stable he left to drink himself into oblivion away from judging eyes. It was a bit sad, mostly because Steve looked so damn desperate to see him, and Wade knew there was a story there he just wasn’t sure what that story was. He had seen the Captain’s reunion with Bucky, back in the day when Wade’s days consisted mostly of jobs and seeing what his favorite Avengers were up to, and Steve and Bucky had _definitely_ been together, love like that couldn’t be faked. So it was interesting that Steve was so hung up on Tony’s presence, or lack thereof, given that there was a chance, small but still real, that Bucky wasn’t dead. Just because he’d gone missing didn’t mean he wasn’t still out there, so Wade was really curious about what went down between the Captain and Tony. After all, as broken as Tony had seemed, he had looked just as haunted when he was carrying an injured Steve mid air. 

 

{Threesome?} 

 

[The word is polyamory-] 

 

{So threesome-} 

 

There was no way to have a threesome when the third party was absent, but Wade didn’t feel like arguing with Yellow. Not that he could do so openly under the circumstances. 

 

Wade stayed in either their hospital room or in the waiting room for three days, taking showers in the gym across the street, being as trustworthy as Peter needed him to be, barely managing to restrain himself from using his phone to call Peter and ask how things were going. 

 

{But if we call Petey, this could be less boring-} 

 

[Don’t call him, fuck forbid you get him shot if someone hears the phone-] 

 

{BUT HE HAS GOOD REFLEXES, COME ON-} 

 

[Stark can hack phones like a bird can fucking _fly,_ we’re not calling Peter-] 

 

{Okay, but a bird with broken wings is useless-} 

 

It was exhausting, having no one to really talk to but the boxes for days on end. He really missed Peter. 

 

The only one that managed to actually talk to him was Natasha and she just let her eyes linger over his mask, silently holding his hand for a long moment before asking in a rough voice, “Are you okay?” 

 

{We’re doing _amazing,_ thanks for asking-} 

 

[Not really.] 

 

Wade rarely felt guilty for playing on anyone’s emotions, but Natasha was always nicer to him than the others. She had been the first one to advocate for him during the war and even though Tony never budged, Wade could tell that ongoing argument was the final straw in their friendship, the one that made it so that even after Stark saved Natasha’s life in front of millions of spectators, she still didn’t ask about how he was doing. She was more concerned about a mercenary than her own old teammate and Wade felt sorry for all of them then, for how broken they’d become as a unit. But he didn’t have room in his heart left to be merciful. All of him belonged to Peter Parker. 

 

{You. Have. Not. Bought. A. Ring.} 

 

[We can’t _buy_ a ring. Our transactions could be traced and any jewelry store would be a little suspicious about a guy carrying ten thousand dollars in cash-] 

 

{So 10k range? Really? I thought we would be spending more-} 

 

[No, he wouldn’t like that-] 

 

{How do _you_ know that, huh?} 

 

[He doesn’t have any expensive things-] 

 

{He could be poor-} 

 

[He’s been slowly replacing the furniture since he moved in. Neither of you were ever going to notice because you’re idiots and you don’t care, but the kid is _not_ hurting for money. Or if he is, he’s stealing things that aren’t too fancy. He likes comfortable shit.] 

 

{... Oh.} 

 

[Yeah, _oh._ ] 

 

{You’re in _luuuuuuuurve-_ } 

 

[YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP! I’m _not_ in love, I just don’t think you should get a literal murderer a ring he would hate-] 

 

{LUUUUUUUUURVE-} 

 

So, even though he was fine, happier than he’d ever been and preparing to steal an engagement ring, he let himself think back to the moment that Spiderman collapsed from ten feet in the air, seemingly choking on his own blood amidst a blood bath, and he felt himself getting choked up as he looked down at the sheets of her hospital bed, the memory of Spidey fragile and limp in his arms making it easy to grit his teeth as he said, “He’s dead.” 

 

Yellow went silent. 

 

[At least _I_ knew him well enough to see he was faking-] 

 

{Oh, yeah, bragging about how well you know the person you _don’t_ love, sure-} 

 

[SHUT UP!] 

 

Natasha flinched and her eyes reddened, a single tear streaming down her face as she shut them and whispered, “I’m sorry.” 

 

Wade didn’t need an apology and he knew that even if they ended up as enemies later on, Natasha needed the comfort more than he did at the moment, so he took her pale thin hand in his gloved one and replied with a choked up, “It’s not your fault.” He thought about what needed to be said to convince her of his sincerity, what he needed to do to convince her he really did love the person she was mourning and he decided to venture as closely to the truth as he could without telling her everything. “He told me- he said I should keep fighting. He was… he was choking on his own blood and he told me to keep fighting. To make him _proud._ I don’t- I shouldn’t have listened. I should have stayed with him. Maybe if I had stayed with him, he would have- he would still be-” 

 

{He’s okay. He’s alive-} 

 

[Guess that moment really did fuck you up, didn’t it?] 

 

Wade had thought he’d lost him. He’d really thought the love of his life was gone and it shouldn’t have made him feel genuinely emotional, it was just supposed to be an act, but suddenly he was swallowing around a lump in his throat and Natasha was looking at him with pity in her eyes. At least she believed him. 

 

She didn’t have much strength in her right then, but she squeezed his hand and forced herself to speak up again, words breaking as she said, “Deadpool.” She paused then, as if she was trying to decide what else she needed to say and corrected herself, “Wade, you did exactly what he would have wanted. He would be proud of you.” 

 

Wade looked away, uncomfortable with the fact that she’d used his name because he knew he wasn’t on her side. Not really. 

 

{Is she going to pass out soon? I’m waiting for her to pass out.} 

 

[She’s got maybe thirty seconds, hurry up. Say something emotional.] 

 

“I know. But it would be… it would be a lot better if he was alive to tell me that.” 

 

He didn’t look at her again, but he could feel her eyes on him and she squeezed his hand one more time before the strength of her hold loosened up and her breathing slowed down. 

 

[Pretty cliche, but good enough.] 

 

Yellow took a few seconds to say something but when he did, it was a quiet, {Can we call Peter now?} 

 

[I JUST TOLD YOU-] 

 

{Please.} 

 

White halted his rant instantly and Wade straightened up in his seat. Yellow could say please, but it was usually followed by some kind of demand, or it sounded like the kind of pleading a child directed to their parents. He _never_ actually begged for anything in that tone. He never sounded like he was afraid. 

 

Wade headed to a payphone in the lobby, both of the boxes eerily quiet as he made the call so that it wouldn’t be registered on his phone. It rang three times before Peter picked up. 

 

“Wade.” 

 

Yellow let out a quiet sigh of relief and White scoffed.  

 

[See? He’s fine!]

 

{I wanted to hear his voice.} 

 

“Hey, Baby Boy,” Wade breathed out quietly, trying to make sure no one heard him but also hit with how badly he needed Peter. “Miss you.” 

 

“Hmm,” Peter replied, voice quiet and out of breath. 

 

Wade blinked. 

 

[Is he still out there? Fuck! I _told_ you he was busy-] 

 

{But it’s been _days-_ } 

 

[Grow up! He needs time to _finish-_ ] 

 

“Sweetheart, are you busy? I can call back later if you-” 

 

“Been thinking about you,” Peter interrupted. His words were quiet and soft but there was something different about his tone and Wade gripped the phone tightly when he realized what it was. 

 

“You’re in your hotel room, aren’t you?” 

 

Peter let out a breathy little laugh and mumbled, “How’d you guess?” 

 

{Oh god. I _told you we should have gone with him-_ } 

 

[It would have been too suspicious.] 

 

{But he’s _doing things-_ } 

 

 _“Petey,”_ Wade growled into the phone, “You’re- fuck. I’m in the hospital, I can’t talk you through it or anything-” 

 

There was a snort on the other end of the line and then, “I wasn’t expecting you to. I just figured we already had sex, so you wouldn’t mind listening. No one else has this number so it had to be you.” 

 

“You’re trying to hurt me," Wade whined petulantly, "This is hurting me, I wish I could have gone with you-” 

 

There was a soft groan on Peter’s end of the line and Wade was debating whether or not to just kill the Avengers at their most vulnerable to go to Peter, but he knew Peter wouldn’t approve. 

 

{This is torture. I hate you, you should have followed him, you suck-} 

 

[We _just_ fucked him. A few days isn’t going to kill you, dumbass.] 

 

{IT MIGHT!} 

 

[It won’t. Have some human fucking _decency._ Christ.] 

 

Peter sighed against the phone and said, “I should have done this later. Whatever, I’ll take a cold shower. How is everything with the Avengers? Has Thor arrived yet? Is Tony out of his den yet? I actually have a couple questions I need you to ask-” 

 

{YOU MADE HIM STOP, HOW DARE-} 

 

[You were the one freaking out!] 

 

Wade breathed out in relief and smiled under his mask. “They’re still down for the count. Might be a couple weeks before anyone gets discharged, heard one of the nurses on the phone with Stark telling him that Bruce may never be able to transform again, too many tranqs at once really fucked him up, something about causing damage to his liver and low white blood cells. If he ever gets tranquilized again it could cause some of his organs to shut down and since the only surefire way they have of making him shift back when he’s completely pissed is to tranquilize him, I don’t think Tony is going to keep him on the team-” 

 

{Honestly? Great! I don’t want his fists near Petey-pie-} 

 

[Good riddance. Super strength can only protect someone so much if they have broken ribs-]

 

It seemed that Peter agreed with the boxes even if he didn’t hear them because he said, “Okay… That’s really good to hear actually. And Natasha? Steve?” 

 

Wade loved how Peter could switch from horny to all business so quickly, almost as much as he loved the fact that Peter told him he was thinking about him. He was glad Peter could put off self discovery for a little bit because Wade did not have the mental capacity to focus on the Avengers with a hard on, he just didn’t. “Natasha has been nice. Talking. She’s recovering faster than others, mostly because her problem was blood loss. She’s had two transfusions so far and she lost a kidney, but she did well in surgery. She’s been struggling not to cry about you, though-” 

 

“Me?” Peter questioned, confusion lacing his voice. “Like, that she didn’t get to kill me or-” 

 

“Spiderman.” 

 

{‘Cause, you know, she never had kids or anything-} 

 

[Spiderman was obviously younger than the rest of them, though a lot younger than she probably realized. She would have latched onto him, especially because Tony let it slip that one time that she can’t have kids-] 

 

{And she _did_ try to get him under her wing-} 

 

[Wonder how shocked she was when he apparently came back from the dead when he got out of prison-] 

 

Peter took a long second to process the implications of what Wade was saying and then he mumbled, “Oh. Right. She-” 

 

“She’s protective of you, yeah.” Wade didn’t understand how Peter could have missed that before. Even through witnessing a single interaction between them, Wade had already known exactly how Natasha viewed Spiderman, how much she wanted to shield him away when he came back because she’d already lost enough people and saw Deadpool as a possible threat. It was _more_ than obvious. It just seemed like Peter had a difficult time believing anyone could care about him. Even when he wore a mask. 

 

{He’s a precious babe-} 

 

[To be fair, if she knew who he was, she would feel _very differently_ about him-] 

 

{Shhhhh, don’t mention this to our precious-} 

 

[He’s got worshippers but they don’t _know_ him. Chances are they also _fear_ him. He could probably name the people that actually love the real him and he wouldn’t use all the fingers on one hand-] 

 

{Just three fingers, right?} 

 

[Sure. You, Wade, his Aunt.] 

 

{SAY THAT YOU LOVE HIM ALREADY-} 

 

Peter took a full minute of silence and then he sighed quietly and claimed, “You care about her.” 

 

Wade flinched. Peter’s tone did not sound angry, but it certainly didn’t sound amused. And Natasha wasn’t a topic of conversation he’d been expecting for them to get stuck on. He’d been trying to avoid it because he had mixed feelings about it. 

 

{DENY!}

 

[Lie, he won’t like the truth-] 

 

“I… no. She’s just nice? I would end her if you asked, but I think-” 

 

“Okay.” 

 

{Okay?} 

 

[What does that mean? Does he want you to-] 

 

“Okay?” Wade asked, blood cold as he wondered if Peter was really telling him to kill Natasha so quickly, “Petey, what-” 

 

“If you care about her, how would you convince her to join me?” Peter questioned. 

 

“I _don’t_ care about her,” Wade denied quickly, trying to spare Natasha at least until she could deal a fair fight, “You- wait. You want her on your side?” 

 

{Oh. But he has _us-_ } 

 

[She did kill a lot of people before she started the whole heroic stunt-]

 

Peter made a thoughtful little sound and replied, “I’ve been thinking about how to turn them, or get them out of the way. Bruce was a lucky misstep, I didn’t realize that many people would have tranquilizers on hand. But I know how to get the Captain on my side, and Tony is desperate to have some of his family back. He’s a broken man, easy to manipulate. Thor is going to be a thorn in my side, but if he’s not back yet I don’t have to worry about it. The one I’ve been on the fence about is Natasha. I _could_ kill her, but she doesn’t actually deserve to die. And she cared for Spiderman in her own way, I guess. It was sweet, albeit unnecessary, but she’s good at what she does and I don’t have a viable plan to turn her against S.H.I.E.L.D., so if you’ve got any ideas, I’m listening.” 

 

{We don’t _need_ her-} 

 

[He’s right. If you want to take on S.H.I.E.L.D., you need to have more than two people that have experience with infiltration and she’s one of the best out there.] 

 

{But she would never fight for the death angel-} 

 

[We could threaten her-] 

 

{She would fight back immediately-} 

 

And threatening a trained ex-assassin was a bad idea anyway, she wouldn’t go after Wade. She would go after _Peter,_ thinking him responsible for the death of her chosen son and then Wade really would kill her. 

 

[True, but not necessary. She would do whatever he commanded if he promised he could bring back Barton-] 

 

“Bring back Hawkeye.” 

 

It slipped from Wade’s tongue before he could stop it, before he could realize the obvious roadblock in that suggestion, but Peter didn’t call him an idiot. 

 

“Resurrection?” His voice lilted curiously and Wade almost laughed because it was ridiculous to even _consider,_ but Peter was taking him seriously. 

 

{But we don’t know _how-_ } 

 

[Next option-] 

 

“I… maybe?” Wade asked, halfway ready to just throw out the idea entirely. “I mean, I don’t know how we’d go about it, but you’re done with the Texas compound, right? Did they have anything interesting?” 

 

Peter hesitated and Wade grew tense. 

 

“They…,” Peter started, still hesitating and the anticipation was grating on Wade’s nerves, “Had a lot of things you probably don’t want to hear about. Given your history.” 

 

“Mutant shit?” Wade asked, voice low and agitated. 

 

“That’s besides the point, Wade,” Peter replied, brushing it off and Wade would have been pissed if the Death Angel hadn’t kept speaking. “In any case, I got rid of it, took notes of possible places to search because of it. They didn’t have any _successful_ experiments with resurrection. Regeneration, sure, but only mild improvements, nothing as drastic as yours. They were basically just one step above useless.” 

 

{He sounds so _annoyed, it’s cute-_ } 

 

[It’s not _cute-_ ] 

 

“Good! That’s… that’s good,” Wade found himself saying. And it was. It was definitely good that Peter had destroyed mutant research. What _wasn’t_ good was that it existed in the first place, but Wade would linger on that at another time. “But if they didn’t have anything on resurrection I don’t know where you might find something-” 

 

“I could sell my soul? I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m not gonna live ten years anyway and the demons are always looking for an extra deal-” 

 

{ _EX-FUCKING-SCUSE ME?_ } 

 

[He- _how does he know about demons?_ ] 

 

 _“No,”_ Wade grit out. “You are _not_ limiting your life for _Natasha._ You’re worth more than she _ever_ could be.” 

 

{DAMN FUCKING STRAIGHT-} 

 

[Demons don’t just show themselves to anyone, not even rape victims. _What did he experience that caused a demon to appear for him-_ ] 

 

Peter didn’t really argue the point, but he sounded highly amused when he responded with, “That’s cute. You love me.” 

 

{Yeah, of course we love you, what-} 

 

[ASK HIM-] 

 

“Peter,” Wade started, ready to voice a _strong_ protest detailing exactly how he would slaughter any demon that tried to take Peter’s soul, but Peter didn’t let him go on. 

 

“Okay, _fine,”_ he conceded, as if he was sparing his own soul because _Wade didn't want him to sacrifice it_ , “I won’t sell my soul. It’s a wasted opportunity though, I know you had a thing with the demon queen, I’m sure she would offer me a good twenty years just to get my soul to herself-” 

 

 _“How the hell_ did you find out about Shiklah?” Wade couldn’t handle all this information at once. “How do you even know about demons? Who-” 

 

Peter gave a quiet, dark little chuckle and chills went down Wade’s spine as his angel said, “Did you _really_ believe I spent three years in prison?” 

 

{If… if he wasn’t in prison, then where-} 

 

[His file said he was in prison. His _S.H.I.E.L.D._ file said he was in prison. What project went so far above everyone’s pay grade that it would willfully hide the location of a high profile convicted _serial killer?_ ] 

 

“What?” Wade whispered, disbelief thick in his voice as his mind ran through all the possibilities of where Peter had been, of how he’d gotten his scars if they  _weren't_ from prison. 

 

“Wade,” Peter began. “Wade, they wouldn’t have sent me straight into maximum security. I never knew why they were so fucking fixated on me, but I found my original files in texas." He paused and added a rueful, “Well, not _mine_ exactly, but my mother’s. They were monitoring her pregnancy. I don’t know why she was in Texas or _why the hell_ she was so important, but there’s no file on my father here. Just pictures upon pictures of me in the womb _._ They’ve been watching me my entire life. They’ve been _following_ me. They didn’t know I got a mutation, so when I was deemed guilty, I was shipped to a S.H.I.E.L.D. outpost. I don’t know which one it was but they tried _everything_ to get a mutation to stick, too stupid to realize I already had one. I thought they were just stealing random convicts back then but _obviously_ I was wrong.” He sounded so disgusted, but not even at what he’d gone through, just at the thought that he’d miscalculated something and Wade felt simultaneously shattered and five times deeper in love. He didn’t have much time to dwell on the strange mix of emotions because Peter kept telling him things he needed to know but didn’t want to picture because they gave him the urge to strangle someone. “They studied my blood and got excited, thinking I was mutating and making games out of torturing me when I didn’t, hoping to stress me enough so that it would rise to the surface." Wade had a sudden and uncomfortably vivid vision of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents tracing a jagged knife through Peter's skin and trying to rip out his heart. The only thing that kept him focused on the present was Peter's voice. "I saw hundreds of people paraded through that outpost, experiments, and demons routinely showed up on behalf of your old queen to make deals, to take people away.” His smile was audible when he added, “To try and take _me_ away. I know a lot more than you think I do, I was only in prison for two years, not three.” 

 

{Two years ago. Two years ago you broke up with Shiklah because she was so busy and she didn’t have time for you and she was obviously hiding something-} 

 

[She was manipulating mutant experiment victims. No _wonder she wouldn’t tell you what she was doing-_ ] 

 

“They. Fucking. What,” Wade growled. He knew Peter would think Wade was talking about the S.H.I.E.L.D. fuckers, and he would definitely murder them for  _daring to think they had a right to lay a hand on Peter Parker,_  but he was also focused on the _demons._ On _Shiklah._ He was going to _kill her for hiding an operation like that from him. He could have rescued Peter over two years ago and the fact that he hadn't because he'd never known about the outpost dealings was cause for a fucking massacre._

 

{I TOLD YOU I HATED HER-} 

 

[I hope the souls were worth it.]

 

“Wade, it’s fine," Peter claimed, even though it most certainly was fucking _not_ fine. "Stop it, I’ll find them eventually-” 

 

“I’ll kill them,” Wade stated. It wasn’t even a rage filled statement, it was cold and assured and true. He would kill everyone that ever touched Peter and everyone that ever even _thought_ of taking his soul. 

 

“Well… yeah?” Peter asked him, sounding more perplexed than anything else. “That’s kind of the whole reason we started hanging out in the first place? Partner for patrol, partner in crime. Same difference? I wasn’t expecting a boyfriend out of it, but I’m not complaining-” 

 

{BOYFRIEND, DID HE SAY-} 

 

[Dear hell. It’s official then? Shit. I can't believe this is our life now-] 

 

“Okay, I’m going to freak out about you calling me your boyfriend later, but Peter, I’m serious. When we find that compound I want you to web all of them down and I’m going to drown each and every one of those fuckers individually. Gonna take my time too, drown, chest compressions, rescuscitate, drown again until I break their fucking ribs from the pressure and their lungs fill up with their own fluids, but I don’t want you to kill any of them.” He didn’t add that he was going to have to give Shiklah an up close and personal visit, or slaughter her demons. He never wanted Peter to get dragged to hell with him. 

 

“You… want to kill them for me,” Peter stated slowly, words uncertain and a hell of a lot less confident than he usually sounded. “I… sure? I mean, less effort, I guess. Not that you _have to._ That compound was kind of not the biggest threat I had in mind, but-” 

 

{They hurt him-} 

 

[Why waste time when you can just blow them up-] 

 

“They’re the ones that gave you the scars,” Wade snapped, frustrated with Peter’s apparent disinterest in his own self-preservation, “Are you telling me there’s a specific compound or person you hate _more_ than the fuckers who tortured you for a year?” 

 

Peter hesitated a final time and Wade felt just about ready to tear at his own skin because he couldn’t look at Peter or read the emotions on his face instead of trying to get information from the soundlessness. 

 

“Fury,” Peter breathed out in a rush, hatred dancing at the edges of his voice as he spoke. “Kill whoever you want in the compounds, I already gave them their fair warning, but don’t touch Fury.” 

 

“What did he do that could possibly be worse-” 

 

{DON’T JUST GO ASKING QUESTIONS-} 

 

[He’s not going to tell you if you make demands-] 

 

“Don’t ask, Wade." Peter didn't sound hateful then, just carefully toneless. Almost like he was uncomfortable with something and Wade _needed_ to know what it was, but Peter wasn't willing to talk about it. "Just… Do you trust me?” 

 

Peter sounded fragile asking the question, almost insecure, but Wade couldn’t _see him_ and he didn’t know how much of it was real. It was maddening, but in the end it didn’t change how he felt. His answer would always be the same. 

 

“I trust you,” he mumbled. 

 

The sound of Peter’s tiny little change in breathing patterns when he smiled made some of the tension roll off of Wade’s shoulders in waves. 

 

{UNNNNFFFFF, SHOW ME YOUR TEETH-} 

 

[Please do not subject me to Lady Gaga at this point in time.] 

 

“Then if you ever get to Fury,” Peter detailed in a hushed but severe tone that brooked no argument, “You can fight him, but don’t you _dare_ kill him. That’s the _one_ rule I have. His death is _mine.”_  

 

It almost sounded like Peter was saying,  _You kill him and I promise I'll take it out on you,_ and Wade was both concerned and a little turned on at the darkness he could feel in Peter's statment. 

 

He had to take three slow breaths before he could properly respond, before he could manage the strength of will to make that promise, the kind of promise he just _knew_ he wouldn’t be making if he had the full story. 

 

“Anything you want, Death Puppy.” 

 

{DEATH PUPPY, OH MY GOD-} 

 

[OH NO. DON’T MAKE THIS A THING-] 

 

“Don’t ever call me that, dear _hell, you can't-”_ Peter sounded like he was _trying_ to be angry but also stifling laughter and it made Wade smile so wide his cheeks hurt as he listened to Peter’s laugh trailing off into stifled little giggles. He was so cute. Wade loved him far too much. 

 

Wade did keep a listening ear on his surroundings, waiting for any movement, and when he heard footsteps coming up the hallway he quickly whispered, “Marry Me,” into the phone, wanting to make sure Peter got a proper goodbye before Wade had to hang up. 

 

Peter took a second to get himself under control, but when he did, Wade could almost _hear_ his boyfriend rolling his eyes at him from halfway across the country. “Have fun, Wade. I’ll be back tomorrow. We can talk about marriage some other time.” 

 

He hung up before Wade could respond, but Yellow started _ranting_ about how that was almost a yes, and White was questioning their life choices. 

  
Wade had to smother the grin on his face when he turned to see that Thor and Stark had _finally_ deigned to make an appearance in the hospital waiting room, but Wade had really never been happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly? This is the cutest chapter you guys are ever going to get out of this fic. Everything else will be drama or deaths or murder husband vibes. This is the last of the pure fluff, from now on, we have MURDER FLUFF ONLY. 
> 
> Anyway, here's everyone's reminder that as of September first I'll be updating this on Thursdays instead of Tuesdays.  
> Also, fanart is included in chapters 8 and 10! Go back and check it out guys! I'm so pleased to have received fanart it really warmed my heart. 
> 
> FEED ME ALL THE COMMENTSSSSSSSSS AS PER USUAL 
> 
> All the love, Katana.


	13. The Missing Months.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade interacts with a couple Avengers, Thor makes an appearance, and White comes to a realization that floors each occupant of their head.

Tony didn’t try to smile when he saw Wade. His face had deep lines of stress. It looked like the man had aged ten years in a matter of days, a sprinkling of gray hair among the rest of the dark strands and that in itself was a huge sign that Stark had stopped caring about himself.

 

{Heard of skin care, anyone?} 

 

[He looks worse than Death-] 

 

{I thought you said Death was beautiful!}

 

Stark had once been a vain man, but none of that charisma or confidence remained. It was like he no longer wanted to impress anyone because, why bother? He spent all of his days drinking anyway judging from the scent and as Wade looked at him, he realized the man was no longer shaving or trimming his beard. It was quite thick and unkempt at this point and when Wade’s eyes drifted over to the old Asgardian member of the team, he looked better, but there was a dull look in his eyes. Not lifeless, not the way the rest of the Avengers looked, but diminished. It was probably because he was able to distance himself from their misery, because he actually had a home to flee to and try to recover in while the rest of the team had been left with nothing. 

 

[How nice that he had a place to run away to-] 

 

{Would  _ you _ stay for this shitshow?} Yellow had a slight bias for Thor, but White had a point. 

 

[Yeah, we would have. It would’ve been a horrible idea, but if we’d been invited, we fucking would have.] White didn’t like the Avengers  _ now, _ but back when they’d been powerful, he’d been just as determined as the rest of them to gain their respect. Now, he didn’t like them much. Not as much as the other mercenaries in the bar. 

 

“Deadpool,” Thor addressed him, sticking out a stiff hand when Stark glanced at him. 

 

{EWWW. Stiff.} 

 

[What’s wrong with him? Why is he… different?] 

 

Wade was… uncomfortable as he stared at the hand outstretched to him. Thor wasn’t so… serious. Where was the casual outburst or greeting for the ‘pool of death,’ that Wade used to receive? Sure, Thor hadn’t  _ liked _ him, but he’d always been cheerful, at least. Tentatively, Wade reached out his own gloved hand for a tense handshake, watching in bewilderment as Thor grimaced at the contact.

 

{Oh  _ hell no! _ Smack him right now, how dare he act like we’re disgusting-} 

 

[Maybe it’s because we are?] 

 

{HE DOESN’T HAVE TO MAKE HIS FEELINGS SO OBVIOUS-} 

 

Wade was just trying to figure out what he’d done wrong. As far as he knew, he’d never been any worse to Thor than any of the other Avengers. Did Thor blame him for Spiderman’s death? Or maybe for not helping in the war? Wade had  _ tried, _ but he was always left behind! It wasn’t his fault Jane died! She shouldn’t have been allowed to tag along in the first place just because her and the god were attached at the hip. 

 

{You would think he could keep his dick to himself for the war but  _ guess fucking not- _ } 

 

[Must you?]  

 

Anyway, if anyone was responsible for that it was Thor. If he had said one word in Wade’s defense, Deadpool would have stood a better chance at being allowed on board. Even  _ S.H.I.E.L.D. _ hadn’t wanted Wade involved in the fall of Hydra until he was their last option and that had been after far too many people had died. It had been too much for him to clean up and he’d said so- 

 

{I mean, we can’t divide into multiple ‘Pools. Though  _ can you imagine- _ } 

 

[No! No imagining anything! Don’t give him  _ ideas- _ ] 

 

-forcing S.H.I.E.L.D. to give up billions for the rest of Weasel’s mercs to become involved.

 

{Hey, the war only lasted like a year, didn’t it?} 

 

[Oh. Does that mean-] 

 

Now that Wade thought about it, the end of the war  _ had _ been around the time he left Shiklah. S.H.I.E.L.D. had downsized after the war because of a lack of resources and funds and Wade… Wade was probably the reason they sent Peter Parker to an actual prison. The outpost they’d held him in wouldn’t be worth holding onto if the majority of their experiments were broken out via demon deals.

 

{Did he know that? He couldn’t just think they would let him go for  _ no reason _ -} 

 

[Holy shit. That’s why he didn’t kill you in the prison. I always thought it was just on a whim, but he fucking  _ knew- _ ] 

 

_ His precious little bean didn’t allow him to finish his sentence, just crowded him against the wall, pressed one hand over his mask where his mouth was, and mumbled, “Last door on the left, Bambite,” mockingly into his ear and then swayed away from him, right out the door with another small flash of pure white teeth and the soft spoken words, “Thank you… for everything,” on his way out. _

 

Thank you for everything. During the riot, Peter had said  _ thank you for everything _ and his Death Angel didn’t say anything he didn’t mean in some way. Everything. Of  _ course _ it implied gratitude for more than one act. It wasn’t just for the riot or helping him break out, it was for being the cause of Peter landing in prison in the first place with a chance of escaping. 

 

_ {But how did he know-} _

 

[That’s why he started stalking you, that’s why he wanted to be friends, he already knew you exploited S.H.I.E.L.D. at their weakest moment, he already knew you could be an ally, he was  _ fixated on you before you even met- _ ] 

 

Wade  _ really _ needed to talk to Peter. 

 

Tony cleared his throat and Wade blinked back to the present moment and replied, “Thor. How’s it been chilling on another planet, leaving the rest of us in the toilet?” 

 

{Harsh. Ow. Don’t say that, that’s mean-} 

 

[It’s well fucking deserved.] 

 

Thor frowned at him, mouth opening to protest, but Tony glared at him and Thor glared back in silence. It seemed Wade wasn’t the only one that felt like the Asgardian prince had gone running home to avoid his problems. 

 

Stark broke eye contact and looked back at Wade, respect in his eyes that had never been there before when he met Wade’s stare and it was… odd. Wade didn’t deserve it, but maybe he would eventually. Stark would be easy to turn. His Baby Boy knew what he was doing. 

 

“Wilson. I… am grateful you’ve watched over my team-” 

 

{What-} 

 

[He’s expressing gratitude. Didn’t realize he was actually capable-] 

 

“Your team,” Thor repeated, turning to stare at Stark as if he’d lost his mind and Wade was living for this. Evidently there were a lot of things left unsaid between the two ‘heroes’ because Tony grit his teeth, fists clenched as he ignored Thor and kept his focus on Wade. It was a sad,  _ sad _ day when anyone looked to Wade for menial comfort over an actual God, but Wade would take it. 

 

He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot before realizing that neither of the other parties were going to speak which left him waving off the interruption of unfinished praise with one hand and saying, “‘No problem, Stark! I didn’t think they should be alone since a lot of supporters got away and I think we all know the police force isn’t what it used to be and I feel like Natasha needed someone to talk to-” 

 

{The police force is a  _ joke- _ } 

 

[What police force? It’s practically nonexistent at this point-] 

 

“How is she?” It was the first thing Thor said to him that didn’t sound condescending and Wade didn’t fail to notice how Tony looked away as if he was trying to pretend he didn’t care even though he had publically disintegrated a civilian on international television to keep Natasha alive. 

 

Wade shrugged one shoulder, unsure of what to say but trudging forward anyway, “Alive? I mean, she’s still hooked to feeding tubes and she’s sort of stable? Not awake for very long, but at least she’s talking-” 

 

“And the others are not?” Thor sounded so disheartened and slightly more like himself, even if it was a heavily depressed version of himself. 

 

{Thank  _ nirvana, he’s okay- _ } 

 

[You know, Peter’s going to kill him eventually right? He’s the son of Odin, he’s not going to turn against his morals-] 

 

{Aha! You called him Peter again! You wanna love him, I can  _ feel _ it!} 

 

[What I  _ want _ is for you to  _ SHUT UP- _ ] 

 

Wade shook his head to regain his focus as he replied, “Bruce is… didn’t Stark tell you?” 

 

Only then did he realize the way Tony’s face grew hard, jaw tensing and Thor glared at the man accusingly as he bit out, “He did not see fit to inform me earlier or their condition,” he turned his head back towards Wade and added, “Though it seems he trusts  _ you _ with their condition.” 

 

{Why is he so  _ salty? _ It’s not like  _ we _ walked out on anyone that considered us family-} 

 

[What happened to liking him?] White sounded so smug. 

 

{That was before he decided to be a dick to us, we were just being  _ nice- _ } 

 

Truthfully, Thor’s voice was laced with so much resentment that Wade paused and stretched his neck to pop the joints in his upper spine obnoxiously, giving himself some more time to come up with an answer. “I was there when they were hurt, I’m sure you did everything you could from your  _ precious _ Asgard-” 

 

_ {Bad idea, BAD IDEA-} _

 

[ _ MOVE! _ ] 

 

The blond man’s fist came launching at him, but Wade dodged and levelled a katana with the man’s groin. He still had them, without a strong police threat the hospital wasn’t going to bother to try and kick out an armed mercenary and Wade wasn’t going to part with his beloved weapons. Thor’s grip on his own weapon of choice grew tight and tiny sparks of electricity danced along the metal surface of Mjolnir. 

 

They both paused when Stark’s voice cracked as he yelled, “Fuck this!” 

 

The smallest man among them, who quite frankly looked like shit, shoved at Thor with one arm. Thor didn’t move more than a mere inch and it looked like he moved more out of surprise than the actual force of the push. Stark had lost a lot of muscle mass in the past couple of years and it was more obvious now than ever that he was extremely vulnerable without his Iron Man suit. 

 

{What does Cap  _ see _ in him-} 

 

[Oh, I’m sure Weasel would be thrilled to hear we’re bumping uglies with the serial killer of his nightmares. We’re not really in a position to judge, here.] 

 

{IT IS NOT THE SAME-} 

 

[Yes, it is-] 

 

{IT IS FUCKING  _ NOT- _ } 

 

It was hard to tune out the voices’ petty argument, but Wade managed when Stark took a deep breath. His hand was shaking, but he put it behind his back to hide the tremors even though Wade was pretty sure both he and Thor noticed. Stark was going through withdrawals.

 

{If he hasn’t been making love with some tonic and gin, then where the hell has he  _ been- _ } 

 

[That… that is not good. If he manages to quit, he’ll be focused enough to be a threat-] 

 

{I knew you’d be on our side eventually, Whitey! COME TO THE DARK SIDE-} 

 

[You’re fucking obnoxious.] 

 

Wade felt quietly amused since White sounded sort of fond, if a bit worn down. He wasn’t supposed to be feeling amused, this was a serious moment! 

 

Stark finally just looked at Wade’s mask, not at his lenses, just at his forehead, almost as if he was embarrassed and couldn’t actually meet Wade’s gaze and the more time Wade spent around the heroes, the sorrier he felt for them. 

 

“You were telling us how the team was?” 

 

Stark’s suggestion took Wade off guard because it implied that he didn’t know how the team was, so either he had forgotten the phone conversations he had with the nurses, or they had  _ not been talking to Tony Stark. _ If that was the case- 

 

[Who the fuck were they giving private information to?] 

 

{Is  _ everyone _ hiding something? What the  _ shit- _ } 

 

Wade decided not to say anything about his suspicions, he’d have to find out more on his own first before seeing if it was a good idea to inform Stark that someone was spying on the team. It was interesting that Stark had gone from saying  _ his _ team to  _ the _ team to appease Thor. It was also interesting that he hadn’t addressed the fact that he wasn’t updated on the matter, trying to cover for his own bad habits when there was an obvious light sheen of sweat on his skin. 

 

{Okay, but if he’s actually quitting, we need to tell Petey-} 

 

[We can wait until he gets back, he said tomorrow-] 

 

{But we should call-} 

 

[Stop being so damn clingy! You can wait  _ one _ day-] 

 

Wade could wait a day. He’d already waited several days after all. He just had to distract himself with  _ real _ conversation. Ignoring Yellow’s vehement protests about how he provided  _ very real and interesting  _ conversation material, Wade said, “Bruce can’t shift anymore. Or he can, but a tranquilizer would kill him-” 

 

Tony turned as white as a sheet and his eyes darkened as he realized what that meant. 

 

{BOOM! Mindblown!} 

 

[Is he pale because he  _ cares _ or because he knows they’re barely keeping up as it is-] 

 

“That- That is not possible,” Thor interjected. “Hulk has always been a strong counterpart to Bruce and he is a  _ warrior-”  _

 

{Pffft! He’s so… mousy-} 

 

[The idiot doesn’t judge people based on personality, he focuses on how hard they can hit something-] 

 

Tony didn’t even acknowledge Thor, eyes locked on Wade’s as he stated, “You’re saying he can’t fight.” 

 

Thor went quiet and looked about ready to swing at Stark’s head until he realized that Stark wasn’t looking at him and wasn’t angry or in disbelief. Then he looked back at Deadpool and his body seemed to sag when Wade nodded. He understood in a way, why Thor would resent him at the moment. He left to pick up the few pieces of himself he had left and he came back to his once family only to feel like Deadpool, a mercenary the Avengers had never trusted before, had taken his place. Not that there was much of a place left to take but Wade didn’t think Thor realized that yet. 

 

“Not unless you want it to kill him,” Wade said bluntly. 

 

{We’re supposed to get them to  _ trust us- _ } 

 

[And they’ll appreciate the fucking honesty. Better for them to turn the guy away than kill him because we gave the wrong information. Who do you think they would blame if he drops dead from a damn tranquilizer?] 

 

Thor’s frame seemed to shrink in on itself and Wade had never seen him look so small, so  _ guilty. _ Stark stared forward resolutely, eyes a slight tinge of yellow in the whites of his eyes. 

 

[Oh.] 

 

{What? What is it?} 

 

Liver failure. Well. Maybe Wade didn’t have to worry about getting Stark on his side after all. If the man was gone, the Avengers would either split or follow the Captain. And Peter did say he had a plan for everyone but Natasha. 

 

Stark opened his mouth to speak but then he looked away in shame and Wade fought a grin as he realized what the man was hesitating to ask. 

 

{STONY, STONY, STONY, I SHIP IT-} 

 

[This coming from the one that wouldn’t  _ shut the fuck up _ about how ‘pure’ the bond between Rogers and Barnes was-] 

 

{Which it  _ still is- _ } 

 

Wade resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Yellow started in on his adoration of Steve and Bucky as a couple. Sure, Yellow wasn’t the only one that thought they belonged together, but at least Wade managed to stifle some of his feelings on the matter when it mattered. Yellow had no such reservations. 

 

[If he’s still alive] White muttered, making Wade tense. It wasn’t something he or Yellow liked to think about. Yellow proved his point almost immediately by  _ screeching at a deafening volume. _

 

{HE IS FUCKING ALIVE ALRIGHT, HE WAS OUR FRIEND-} 

 

[Was he, really?] White snapped, and Wade didn’t like where this was going but he held his tongue, not wanting to put Stark off so soon. White didn’t seem to take that into consideration as he added, [Did he not abandon you the moment the Captain welcomed him into the fold-] 

 

{He… he didn’t have a choice-} Yellow sounded like a child trying to reassure himself that his parents’ divorce wasn’t his fault and Wade ground his teeth as subtly as he could because they didn’t talk about this, it made Yellow feel fragile and White  _ knew that. _

 

[There’s  _ always _ a choice-] 

 

{Would you have us walk away from Peter?} Yellow asked, and the question was so out of the blue that Wade blinked and cursed himself internally because that had probably been visible and Tony was still looking for a way to ask his question but not actually asking anything while Thor grew increasingly more tense in the stifling silence. 

 

White seemed as stunned as Wade did, because Yellow wasn’t being playful or complaining or singing and he wasn’t even sad. He was asking something in a completely serious, coherent voice, a question that White tried to avoid with the words, [That has nothing to do with-] 

 

Yellow didn’t let him get away with it. His voice had never sounded so severe. 

 

{Right here. Right now, if it was  _ your _ choice to make and neither of us said a fucking  _ thing  _ against it, would you have us walk away from Peter for the ‘protection’ you said the Avengers could offer? To flee to another country? Would you abandon the coming war, knowing that there’s a chance he could die?} 

 

White did not respond which was something Wade would let himself feel joy about later but at the moment he just felt his heart drop to his stomach at the mere  _ suggestion, _ shocked that Yellow could even process the words, let alone say them without breaking down. 

 

Yellow spoke again, only it was soft as he concluded, {There was a war, there was an army of mutants and there was a good chance Steve would die if they were outnumbered…. Bucky  _ loved _ him. He didn’t have a choice.} 

 

Wade coughed, trying to get rid of the emotion that would linger in his voice if he tried to speak and then he piped up with a small smile that he tried to make sympathetic as he looked at Tony and said, “Steve is okay, by the way. In rough condition, still got a few broken bones that might take a couple more  weeks to heal with the stress of the meds and all, but fine. He hasn’t been talking yet, though.” 

 

He added a quiet, “I think he’s been waiting for you,” for good measure and basked in the guilt he saw cross Stark’s face. 

 

Steve deserved so much better than Stark, he deserved to have Bucky back. Wade froze with his hand on the doorknob to the room and thought about that for all of a second before forcing himself to open the door and pretend his mind wasn’t running wild. 

 

Tony went straight to Steve, who, surprisingly, was awake. He was usually the one who slept the most as he apparently took the most injuries. Steve’s eyes lit up at the sight of Stark at his bedside as they took the man in, the joy diminishing as he surely realized how horrible Stark was at taking care of himself. 

 

[You think that’s what Peter’s planning.] 

 

{What? Tell me what’s happening! I deserve to be in the loop! I am a part of this too, dammit!} 

 

Thor went to Natasha’s side and the seat he took was where Wade had grown used to sitting so he tried to gracefully make his way over to Bruce’s bedside as Thor and Stark tried to talk to the people they’d sat beside. He had a feeling his movements were more robotic than graceful as he stiffly sat in the only empty chair. 

 

[Don’t be offended-] 

 

{Offended? What reason do we have to be  _ offended- _ } 

 

Wade wasn’t offended. He wasn’t even sure he was right, but if he was… that meant Peter did have a hell of a lot more knowledge than Wade realized and that if he wanted, he could have all of the Avengers under his thumb in a fucking  _ heartbeat. _

 

{I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT’S HAPPENING-} 

 

[Bucky. He disappeared right before the end of the war. Right before Peter was  _ actually _ sent to prison.] 

 

{Oh. Yeah, but what does that have to do with-  _ OH MY GOD. _ } 

 

Had Bucky been taken to the same compound as Peter before S.H.I.E.L.D. became desperate enough to hire a swarm of professional mercenaries? Did Peter  _ know him? _ Did he know Bucky was alive? If they could find that compound and those files and prove that Bucky was taken by S.H.I.E.L.D., Steve would be out for blood. Steve would want each and every compound burned to the ground. 

 

[But if he’s still alive, does that mean he was transferred to another compound or… huh.] 

 

{IF YOU DON’T START COMPLETING YOUR THOUGHTS I  _ WILL _ FIND A WAY TO STRANGLE YOU, WHITE. SO HELP ME DEATH-}

 

[Death really wouldn’t like you using her name like that-] 

 

{WHITE, YOU FUCKER, I AM NOT IN THE MOOD-} 

 

Wade blinked down at Banner’s hospital sheet and tilted his head down to hide his expression. He wasn’t sure where Bucky was but now he had  _ hope _ because Bucky had been the only friend Wade had outside of mercenary life and if it turned out he was only making careless assumptions, the sheer disappointment would send him into an episode. He wasn’t ready for whatever White had to say. 

 

[Peter disappeared for what? Six months after the prison riot? And S.H.I.E.L.D. managed to track some of his kills during that time, but how did they track those kills when we couldn’t find them? They knew things we didn’t. Like where Peter would go looking. Where their compounds were. They tracked the murders based on location and paranoia which is why Peter said a few of the ones they guessed weren’t his. He wasn’t just stalking us the entire time. So what was he doing, killing people for six months and why did he stop and decide to bring Spiderman back to play?] 

 

{He… you think he… oh.} Yellow took a long moment to think and then practically exploded with the strength of his emotions as he screeched,  _ {YOU WILL STEAL THIS BOY A RING, DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME, TODAY! TONIGHT! BEFORE HE GETS BACK-} _

 

Wade lifted his head to look over at Steve and the way his consciousness seemed to be drifting away from beneath drooping eyelids. Tony was holding his hand. He  _ desperately _ wanted the story there but he knew it would be rude to ask. Seeing the way Stark actually  _ cared _ only made Wade feel guilty about being so excited. If Peter had really spent six months doing what White was implying- and Wade knew damn well that if Peter set his mind on something, he wouldn’t stop until he had  _ succeeded- _ it meant that Bucky was safe and waiting. It meant that Bucky would  _ owe _ Peter, or at the very least they would have developed some kind of friendship out of the torture. 

 

White could be wrong- 

 

White audibly scoffed in his head and Yellow started to curse him out. 

 

-but if he  _ wasn’t… _ then that meant Peter brought Spiderman back from the dead solely to get close to Wade, and it should have been creepy, or even terrifying, but Wade felt  _honored._  Yellow had a point.  Peter  _ had _ said they could talk about marriage some other time. Wade would be ready for it. 

 

Tonight he was going to rob a jewelry store. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS. It is SO HARD to concentrate when you have to blow your nose every two seconds, kill me now. Sorry this is at least an hour late, I'm sick and feel like I'm melting. 
> 
> Anyway, this is now scheduled to update every Thursday! Hope you guys like it and FEED ME COMMENTS FOREVER, I NEED. 
> 
> If there are errors, I'll fix them later, I'm gonna go pass out now. 
> 
> All my love and sweat, Katana.


	14. I Came Back To Find You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade robs a jewelry store AND a museum, he and Peter have a soft conversation when it turns out Peter came home a little earlier than Wade expected.

{I can’t _believe_ you did all that and we still don’t have a _fucking ring-_ } 

 

[So it isn’t perfect-] 

 

{IT ISN’T EVEN FINISHED-} 

 

“HEY!” Wade shouted, leaning against a dumpster as he dug a bullet out of his right shoulder in annoyance, “We can adjust it later, he would love it, you _know_ that-” 

 

{I DON’T WANT TO WAIT ANYMORE-} 

 

Wade pulled the ring out of his pocket and turned it in his fingers, looking at it from every angle. It was… modest. At the moment. 

 

[It’s perfect.] 

 

White was certainly enthusiastic at the moment, then again he always had been the one that paid the most attention to detail. 

 

Yellow piped down into mutinous grumbles the longer they stared at the ring. It was a nice 14k gold band with small engraved rubies all around except- 

 

{EXCEPT IT _DOESN’T FUCKING HAVE A CENTERPIECE-}_  

 

Evidently, Yellow had a problem with keeping himself restrained. 

 

[It _will._ We just have to find someone who can get the right stone-] 

 

Wade smiled the longer he looked at the ring. Yellow could scream all he wanted but the ring already looked like it could fit royalty. He had broken into the nearest jewelry store to his apartment to save time and he hadn’t liked any of the finished rings and while Yellow fawned over several of them, White had higher standards that were not met. Wade had dejectedly taken a moment to sit in the back room of the small jewelry store and then he’d looked into a private glass case that held works in progress. It wasn’t finished, but it was _perfect_ and White had instantly spoken up with a definitive, [That one.] 

 

Yellow had been screeching about the state of the ring ever since, even when White suggested they go get the stone for it. 

 

The thing about White was that when he liked the idea of something, he planned out every single detail of it. He did so with specific jobs just because he favored the country they were in, with art pieces and his plans to steal them purely for the aesthetic, with an engagement ring. 

 

The stone White had chosen laid heavy in Wade’s hastily emptied left pouch, not at all delicate but still the most expensive thing Wade had ever carried in his life. Yellow had snidely asked, {What happened to him not liking _expensive things_?}, but White had shut that down with the insistence that the stone was chosen for its _history,_ not its value. 

 

Wade still had several bullets to dig out of his torso, one didn’t just get away with stealing from the American Museum of Natural History without a scratch or two. Not since they started taking mutant security seriously, anyway.

 

[Fifteen.] 

 

{It wasn’t _that_ many-} 

 

[They updated the security system and you didn’t check and it was _fifteen bullets,_ but sure, whatever. Not that many.] 

 

Wade grinned even as his clothes got more drenched in blood with each time he had to dig into his own skin to get the bullets out. If he didn’t they would eventually travel through his system and shitting bullets was never fun, it tore things in some very _private_ places. At least White seemed to be in a good mood now. He’d been yelling at Wade every time he got shot at, but the second Wade’s hand closed around the jewel White had been _abundantly pleased._ So much so that even his arguing wasn’t half as volatile as usual. 

 

Wade didn’t even know anyone who could set the jewel, but a couple of the female mercs had elaborate jewelry. He wasn’t looking forward to going to the bar to ask them about their personal jewelers but sacrifices had to be made. 

 

Once he’d managed to clean himself up and get all the stupid little pieces of metal out of his body, he carefully wiped his gloves on his black flannel shirt to get rid of the blood before he reached into his new favorite pouch and brought out the centerpiece. 

 

[Perfection.] 

 

{It’s- okay, _fine._ It’s pretty, but if we had a finished ring we could propose tomorrow! Wait, no, it’s already like one in the morning, _TODAY! WE COULD BE ENGAGED FUCKING TODAY-_ } 

 

Wade let out a small chuckle but White didn’t remain quiet. 

 

[He would say _no_ if we proposed today. In fact, he would know what we were up to if he even heard that we stole the jewel on the news-] 

 

“Which is why I had to wear civvies. Ugh. This is horrifying.” Wade didn’t have a problem with regular clothing, he just didn’t like wearing all black. It felt too much like he was attending a funeral and _maybe he was a walking corpse, but he was still technically alive._  

 

White was right though, Peter wasn’t saying no, but they hadn’t been together for all that long and Wade only realized they were actually official boyfriends _today,_ so he couldn’t just propose. He needed to… build their relationship. Which was why he didn’t tell Peter he loved him. Of course, Peter _knew,_ but Wade wasn’t going to say it out loud until Peter did which could potentially take a _long_ time. Only then would Wade propose. 

 

[He still might not want-] 

 

{WE GOT SHOT FIFTEEN TIMES FOR THIS, WHITE, HE BETTER FUCKING WANT-} 

 

Wade sighed heavily as he placed the stone and the wedding band back into his pouch. Yellow was vacillating between extreme demands and angry interruptions while White couldn’t seem to decide if he was infinitely pleased over his choices or felt like whining about whether or not Peter would ever let himself love. 

 

[I AM NOT WHINING-] 

 

{Okay, but you totally are-} 

 

[I don’t even want him, this is not about his feelings-] 

 

{Okay, but it is-} 

 

[IT IS FUCKING NOT-] 

 

{You liiiiiiiiiiiiiike hiiiiiiim, you loooooooove him, _luuuuuuurve, you’re in luuuuuurve-_ } 

 

[I. HATE. YOU.] 

 

If Yellow could smirk, he would be doing so and they could both feel the smugness radiating from the box as Wade carefully re-sheathed the singular knife he’d brought with him for his impromptu heist. The conversation amused him mainly because, as much as White was denying everything, lately when Yellow accused him of loving Peter, the box wasn’t saying _no._  

 

The argument carried on as Wade stumbled home, thigh muscles still in the middle of healing from his game of, ‘Let’s stab around until we find the bullet.’ 

 

At least blood wasn’t extremely obvious on black clothing. When he finally got to his apartment, he unlocked the door and then heard a quiet noise from beyond it and instantly tensed. No one but Peter had the key so if someone was here at one in the morning, he was going to kill first, ask questions later. He could feel his grip locking around his singular blade as he turned the handle. 

 

There was silence, but he slammed the door open, there was a blur of motion, and Wade threw the blade only to gasp in _horror_ as it almost hit Peter’s neck before his Baby Boy dodged it and smirked at him from beside the area where it had lodged itself in the couch cushions. 

 

{YOU ALMOST KILLED HIM, YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKTARD-} 

 

[THINK BEFORE YOU FUCKING ACT, YOU USELESS SWINE-] 

 

The voices sounded so similar that they blurred into one for a moment and Wade blinked to try and focus on Peter who was still smiling at him. 

 

“You know,” Peter started, one leg dangling off the side of the couch as the other lay beneath his body so he could sit on it, “On our first date you brought me _flowers.”_ He leaned back against the sidearm of the couch and yanked Wade’s favorite small dagger out of its new place in his sofa. The dark red painted hilt matched the color of his nails and Wade swallowed as he realized that Peter had _painted his nails._ The color looked awfully similar to that of blood. 

 

{He’s going to leave, you basically threatened him, _he’s going to think we tried to kill him, I don’t-_ } 

 

[FUCK. FUCK, YOU FUCKED UP-] 

 

Yellow wasn’t even coherent enough to point out how badly White was freaking out over losing Peter and Wade felt his eyes watering. Realistically, he didn’t think Peter would leave if he reacted with a smirk, but the boxes were panicking and Wade was panicking- 

 

Peter stood then, walking with measured steps toward Wade with a pleased expression that Wade didn’t understand until Peter let one hand drift up to scratch lightly at the back of his neck, leaving Wade feeling wet little streaks against his skin that made it obvious the painted nails were a new thing as his Death Angel said, “I hope it doesn’t offend you that I like the knife _better._ ” 

 

{He… _hnnnnnng, baby, yes-_ } 

 

[What. _He liked-_ ] 

 

Wade stared at dark brown eyes and started leaning in before he remembered that he had _pouches to hide._ Hastily, he put a tiny bit of space between them and watched as confusion swept over Peter’s face for all of a second before he managed to hide it. Wade was so _glad_ that they were face to face so that he could actually see those reactions and read how Webs felt. 

 

Looking for a distraction, Wade let his shoulders drop forward and he took hold of Peter’s wrist, the one that held the dagger and he let his thumb gently caress the skin over thin blue veins as he asked quietly, “You didn’t like the flowers?” 

 

[You’re manipulating him. It can’t be that easy-] 

 

{HONESTY IS THE BEST POLI-} 

 

[NO, IT ISN’T, FUCK OFF WITH YOUR ELEMENTARY SCHOOL RHYMES-] 

 

_{Make me.}_

 

Wade ignored the boxes’ squabbling and poured as much _insecurity_ as he possibly could into his voice, because Peter may have been a sociopath, but Wade was a _phenomenal_ actor. 

 

Sugar sweet brown eyes went wide and Peter let the hand on the nape of Wade’s neck drag Wade close into a soft press of lips that had Wade melting against him. When Peter pulled away, he pulled far back enough so that they were no longer in each other’s space but he dragged the edge of the blade along Wade’s jaw line as he backed away from him and smiled softly as he lounged back on the couch. “I adored them,” he assured Wade, body relaxing against the cushions even as he still face Wade and held the dagger close, just over his heart. Wade wanted so badly to take a picture, but it would be a terrible idea to have that sort of evidence laying around. “It was sweet in a way, that you got the one red flower that represents death.” He stopped speaking as he saw the utter confusion in Wade’s eyes and he promptly buried his face into the torn cushion to muffle his laughter. “You had no idea, did you? Was that really just for the spider thing?” 

 

Wade crossed his arms defensively and broke out with, “Well, _yeah!_ And spider lilies are beautiful and it was a theme, so-” 

 

[And you didn’t even realize who he was at the time-] 

 

{It’s not like we thought he did what we do for _fun-_ } 

 

“EXACTLY!” Wade agreed emphatically, deflating when he realized Peter was tilting his head at him, waiting for the rest of his thoughts on the matter. He rapidly added an offended, “I didn’t know you were Spidey! I mean, I’m totally gonna marry you, but I didn’t know you were _you_ when I got the flowers! I thought you were two different guys and-” 

 

Peter interrupted his rant with a soft murmur of, “Wade?” that held a questioning lilt in his tone. 

 

Wade stopped ranting justifications and replied, “Yes, Puppy?” 

 

Peter snorted, but his eyes roamed over the scars of Wade’s face and just as Wade started to feel nervous about the attention, Peter said, “I liked the flowers. I promise.” 

 

Wade felt a goofy smile stretching across his face and White _loudly_ scoffed at his lovestruck behavior while Yellow swooned and murmured Aladdin’s _I Can Show You The World._ He felt so damn _happy_ that he forgot what he’d been meaning to do entirely and sat on the couch, letting Peter’s legs rest in his lap for one blissful moment before Peter squinted at him and let out a stream of baffled questions Wade was completely unprepared for. “Why is there blood on your clothes? Where’s your suit? Where are your weapons, you always carry your katanas, why don’t you have a gun holster on your thigh, Wade, what-” 

 

[You should have gone to change immediately-] 

 

{PROPOSAL, PROPOSAL, PROPOSAL, I WANT A _FUCKING WEDDING_ -} 

 

[It’s too fucking _early_ for a wedding-] 

 

{Says you! You should be screaming _with me_ , we’re going to be wearing _your color-_ } 

 

[Wait, what-] 

 

{We’d look amazing in a transparent Zuhair Murad lace dress-} 

 

[A dress… but it would be white? Not red or black or any weird fucking colors-] 

 

Wade tried to focus on Peter but he almost laughed at how easily Yellow was shifting White’s perspective. 

 

{No strange colors, not even a hint of red on the dress or on us unless it’s blood and red jewels. It’ll be your day. White, flared out, in _pristine condition-_ } 

 

As White started daydreaming, Wade rubbed soothing little circles into one of Peter’s exposed ankles and said, “I may have had a trip to Weasel’s bar tonight. Nothing important happened, you know how mercenaries can be-” 

 

Peter tensed despite Wade’s best efforts at keeping the blame as casual as possible so as to not arouse suspicion but Peter was having none of it. One hand came up against Wade’s chest and inspected several small holes in the fabric of his black shirt. When he spoke up, it was with a toneless, “Did you die?” 

 

{Ha! From the mercs at the bar? _As if they ever could-_ } 

 

[Well, we technically _didn’t_ die tonight, so no-] 

 

At least Wade could answer truthfully when he replied, “No, Baby Boy, I… I’m alive and well. Peachy. Like a spring chicken! Or, actually no, are they born in spring or do they get killed in spring? I can’t remember which season-” 

 

Peter’s stare just then was heavy and searching and it made Wade nervous, so much so that he couldn’t help the verbal diarrhea. 

 

[Right. Because it’s not a problem you have all the time-] 

 

{Snow colored flared out lace, White. _Snow._ } 

 

Finally, Peter looked down at his nails before lifting a small bottle of red nailpolish from the floor and asking Wade, “Do you like the color?” He waved the little bottle slightly and handed it to Wade. 

 

It was darker than both their suits, but both of them were used to being drenched in dark reds, so Wade was surprised by the question. “Yeah, I mean, it’s a color we wear a lot of-” 

 

Peter leaned forward suddenly and kissed Wade’s cheek, his feet getting comfortable under Wade’s right thigh so that he had to spread his legs a tiny bit to accommodate them, but it wasn’t sexual. In fact, it was so domestic that it made him turn pink and he knew that suddenly shoving on his mask wouldn’t be subtle _at all,_ so there was no way of hiding his reaction gracefully. 

 

[We’re never graceful-] 

 

{Deny! DENY! We fight like a ballerina, there have been _videos-_ } 

 

[Dance fighting will never be a thing, Yellow, let it go-] 

 

{If Jumanji could have it, so the _fuck can we-_ } 

 

The boxes went completely silent when Peter nuzzled Wade’s cheek and said, “Did you know my nail polish is the color and consistency of diluted blood?” 

 

Wade held the tiny little bottle in the palm of his hand as his eyes drifted down to Peter’s messy curls in trepidation and he replied, “I… knew about the color.” 

 

[Is he saying what I think he’s saying-] 

 

{OMFG HE HAS REAL BLOOD NAIL POLISH, SO CUTE-} 

 

Peter kissed the corner of Wade’s jaw and Wade could feel all the blood in his body rushing to his face because he wasn’t used to anyone being all touchy and sweet to him. This was really new territory. It made sense for him to treat Peter like royalty, Peter was gorgeous. It didn’t at all make sense for Peter to act similarly toward _him_ and it shook him as much as it had the morning after their first time. 

 

{OKAY BUT YOU MISSED THE POINT, BLOOD NAIL POLISH-} 

 

He could feel Peter smiling against his neck before he pulled back just enough so that their eyes could meet and explained, “Blood coagulates if it isn’t properly diluted. So I keep diluted jars of… souvenirs. I think it looks pretty and it’s worth the effort.” He leant forward to steal a small kiss and Wade chased after the sensation but Peter’s hand rested on his collarbone and stopped him from moving forward as he added, “Do you think it looks pretty, Wade?” 

 

His hand drifted under the collar of Wade’s shirt and grazed his collarbone with pretty red nails, even as the rest of his body remained as comfy and open as before, no other hint of seductive behavior as he waited for Wade to say something. 

 

{It’s _beautiful-_ } 

 

[It’s a trap, this isn’t about the nail polish-] 

 

Wade tilted his jaw up just enough to kiss Peter’s forehead and murmured an echo of Yellow’s words, “It’s beautiful, Sweetheart.” 

 

Maybe there was a hint of color in Peter’s cheeks, but if it existed it faded as quickly as it had appeared and Wade was certain he’d imagined it because then Peter looked deathly serious, eyes narrowed and lips thinning in what looked like hatred so intense that Wade breathed in sharply and shifted backward, but Peter held him in place, hand fisting into his bloody, ripped shirt. Peter’s demeanor shifted after about a second when he blinked slowly and met Wade’s eyes again, voice soft and hypnotic as he whispered, “I used to have a larger collection, many variations of color to choose from. I’ve been replacing them and it would be a _shame_ if any of your… _friends…_ became something I could wear on my fingertips.” 

 

{Holy shit. _Chills._ } 

 

[He actually can’t betray you even if he wanted to. No one else would take that kind of threat kindly, he’s batshit insane, what the fuck.] 

 

Wade felt goosebumps rising on his skin but he blinked back at Peter and licked his lips as he put on a grin and placed a kiss on Peter’s cheek, much to his cute Angel’s surprise, and replied, “Are you jealous, Petey?” 

 

{Excuse me?} 

 

[What the fuck kind of game are you playing-] 

 

“What? Why would I be-” 

 

Peter’s nose scrunched up adorably as if the implication alone was insulting and he was above such peasant emotions. Wade _barely_ restrained his urge to kiss his the tip of his nose. It was a very close call. 

 

[You always fixate on the weird shit-] 

 

{IT WAS ADORABLE, ADMIT IT-} 

 

[I admit _nothing-_ ] 

 

{WHITE DRESS!} 

 

White was reduced to frustrated grumbling and Wade knew Yellow would never let that go. Wade, however, had more important things to focus on and he ended up giving in to his weakness and kissing Peter’s nose anyway because Peter was his boyfriend, Wade totally had a right to kiss his nose. Peter’s nose scrunched back up again at the action and it just caused Wade to leave a peck on his nose again, then his cheeks and his jaw and his neck and he completely forgot what they were talking about he was so obsessed with every little reaction Peter had. 

 

“Wade!” Peter finally snapped, shoving his face away with one hand, glaring even though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. 

 

[He literally can’t hide it, we know him too well-] 

 

{HOW CAN YOU DENY YOU LOVE HIM WHEN YOU BRAG ABOUT KNOWING HIM SO WELL AND YOU PICKED THE RING-} 

 

[FUCK OFF!] 

 

Wade licked Peter’s hand and Peter pulled his hand away with a grimace, squinting at him in sheer annoyance until Wade let his tongue drag over his lower lip and Peter’s face flamed. 

 

{He _knows where our tongue belongs-_ } 

 

[Stop it! We have things to talk about! Important things!] 

 

Wade slouched back against the cushions and finally brought up what he’d been _meaning_ to bring up since leaving the hospital. 

 

“Petey-pie?” 

 

Peter raised an eyebrow at him and let himself fall back against the armrest again, face nestled halfway into one of the cushions as if it was a pillow. “Hmm?” 

 

“Spiderman didn’t come back from the dead until six months after you escaped prison.” 

 

Every muscle in Peter’s body went perfectly still, almost like he became a statue for a few seconds before he slowly let his chest expand with small stilted breaths again that he wasn’t hiding nearly as well as he seemed to believe. “What about it?” 

 

[No. Nope. Nevermind, don’t ask. We don’t need to know-] 

 

{You brought it up! We’re not just going to ignore that Bucky could be out there-} 

 

[There’s no guarantee he’s alive-] 

 

{WE NEED TO KNOW-} 

 

[He was NOT YOUR FRIEND-] 

 

“Where were you?” Wade blurted out. He had no concrete reason to bring up Bucky, nothing but his own speculations and hope, but asking for Peter’s location should be a safe topic. He hoped. 

 

Peter didn’t answer him for a long moment and then he pulled his feet out from under Wade’s thigh and crossed his legs on the couch, and asked, “How much do you want to know?” 

 

Wade didn’t hesitate to reply, “Everything.” 

 

Peter glanced down at the floor then he carefully took his precious blood polish from Wade’s hand and turned the bottle over between his fingers as he started speaking, almost like it was a nervous habit he’d developed. “I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t know which outpost I was held in. All I know is that a year into my stay, S.H.I.E.L.D. shut them down.” Peter let his eyes rise up and look back and forth between Wade’s as he said, “They no longer had the funds to carry on with their agenda because of a gang of mercenaries, led by a man under the moniker of Deadpool.” 

 

{OHHHH MY GODDDDD, WE WERE RIGHT-} 

 

[He knew you before the prison riot, he knew who you were the second he saw you, fuck, what the fuck-] 

 

Peter brought one of the small pillow cushions up over one of the larger cushions and White was right when he said Peter looked for items that brought him comfort, this was definitely not the ratty couch Wade once had. Peter laid his cheek on the soft surface and blinked sleepily, stretching out like a cat and curling back up with his feet under Wade’s thigh again and, even though Wade desperately needed more information, he was sorely tempted to carry his pretty little Death Kitten to bed. Peter paid his imagination no mind because he started speaking again, yawning halfway through the sentences, “I wasn’t the only one they took, though. I know all about the war, I know Bucky was taken in Captain America’s place. And Pepper, but that’s-” 

 

Wade gasped along with Yellow as he blurted out, “Pepper’s alive?” 

 

{TONY COULD GET BACK WITH HIS WIFE-} 

 

[Oh that is not going to happen, he would never be able to look at her the same-] 

 

Peter snorted and halted all of their thoughts as he yawned and replied, “Not anymore.” 

 

Wade immediately felt a little sad because Tony was a dick, but not so much of a dick that he deserved to have his _entire life shit on,_ and then Peter added, “Her baby made it, though.” 

 

{Her… baby…} 

 

[Ha! Father of the fucking year, an alcoholic, a failure-] 

 

Peter opened his eyes at Wade’s stunned silence and smiled, “Don’t worry, two years in prison, but when I got out I did track them down. May have left a few bodies as warnings for Fury, but that’s besides the point. Bucky’s taking care of Morgan. She’s going to be…” he let out a tired exhale and finished with a quiet, “Strong. When she’s… older. Bucky’s a good father.” 

 

{Oh. Oh, that’s not good-} 

 

[Tony would murder him if he knew the man his new boyfriend still loves was raising his daughter-] 

 

{Tony’s dying.} 

 

Yellow sounded somber and White said nothing, but the general mood was heavy as Wade began to realize Peter gave Pepper’s child a father she could rely on, gave Bucky a responsibility to focus on after years of trauma, and made sure to do so in a way that would put them in his debt, in a way that would make them grateful. It was terrifying and mesmerizing and Wade had the brief vision of what Peter’s ring finger would look like with a thin band of rubies around it. 

 

Peter let his eyes fall shut as he made himself as comfortable as he could. His hair was going flat on one side and he absently let a thumb drag along the blood polish bottle in his hand as he sleepily mumbled, “I spent six months looking for them and when I finally freed them….”  

 

He let one eye peak open to watch Wade as he admitted, “I came back to find you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO AND A HALF HOURS LATE, but you know what? I'm exhausted and I managed to finish it this week and today I'm going to be proud of myself because screw it. 
> 
> Anyway, isn't Petey adorable? Guys, c'mon, blood polish. Adorable. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought of the chapter with a FLOOD OF COMMENTS, because honestly, I feel like I need them to get me through this week. Also, promise I will edit soon but I am drained right now and not ready to function. <3
> 
> All my love, Katana.


	15. Everything He Needed To Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a little different. A chapter on the facility.

The grip on Peter’s hair was tight and he could feel the pressure burning his scalp. He’d probably lost more than a few skin cells and he tried to focus through the haze, to remember the steps to the process of meiosis. The steps to cell division for recovery, not regeneration. Or had it been mitosis? He couldn’t remember at the moment. One of them was for reproduction and not relevant to his situation. Everything was blurry and he felt so disoriented. Everything sounded like it was underwater and he barely resisted laughing at the thought. He couldn’t laugh. It would be the end of him. He needed to focus. Counting. Counting was an option. He could count.  

 

One. Two. Three. Four-

 

The grip on his hair tightened further and he could feel more than a few strands ripping out of his scalp as his head was pulled out of the water. 

 

It happened so suddenly that he was dizzy. Or maybe it was the lack of oxygen. How long had he been holding his breath without counting? He hadn’t started counting until his vision started to fade further. Everything was already blurry in the murky water anyway. It was hard to keep track of what was caused by the exposure and what was due to pain. How many times had he been forced underwater? His hands were shaking, he could feel blood dripping from his wrists and he hated the people who had strength mutations then. If they hadn’t come through, S.H.I.E.L.D. never would have taken precautions against mutants. As it stood, they didn’t know he had an expressed mutation. They thought it was dormant, but they were waiting for it to develop, to rise to the surface. They were prepared for him to try to escape, and those precautions led to chains and handcuffs around his wrists and ankles that stripped his skin of its outer layers and left his muscle tendons raw. One of the cuffs around his ankles was scraping against his bone and Peter let the pain filter through him. It wasn’t something he couldn’t handle, but at the moment he needed the pain more than anything he’d ever needed in his life. It was a small distraction from the burning in his lungs. 

 

He was coughing violently, lungs failing to expand properly within his ribcage and he felt the push before he was prepared for it, but they never let him have enough time to prepare for it. The water was cold. Extremely so. He didn’t know if they just had a terrible filter system or if they did that on purpose. The repeated exposure to cold temperatures would slow down the blood flow in people’s bodies. His heart was racing, but every time he plunged, he could feel it slowing right around the time his vision started darkening at the edges and then he would be pulled back up again, gasping and his heart would race frantically in an attempt to recover the lost minutes of circulation. 

 

They wanted him to have a mutation, but Peter would keep it hidden at all costs. He didn’t grip onto the measly fabric of the hospital gown they gave him because he knew it would tear if he tried. He wouldn’t give them an inkling of his real power. If they knew, they would have no reason to keep him here and Peter knew what the first rise of Hydra had been like. He wasn’t going to get himself killed or controlled. He would _never_ be their perfect little soldier. He would bide his time, get out somehow, and he would figure out which of them deserved to be slaughtered. 

 

He vision blackened out entirely and when he came to, he was writhing on the ground, hands still cuffed behind his back. His fingers were still free, though, and he instantly started clawing at the skin on his back that he could reach. He was screaming, but he knew it was more of a hoarse wheezing sound. He’d lost the ability to scream long ago. 

 

There was something in his back. Something felt like it was shredding the muscle tissue under the skin of his back, directly at the center of all the raw scars he’d acquired during the day. One of the scientists had the brilliant idea of torturing him with a heated scalpel. He’d had fun. He’d carved along the edge of each muscle, slicing into several layers of skin so deeply that Peter could smell his skin burning even more vividly than he could feel it. It smelled like cooking meat and Peter was so _hungry_ and he felt nauseated the entire time. 

 

The first time he _planned_ to kill someone, he’d done so in a misguided attempt to protect a friend. He had only gotten his mutation a couple months prior and he had been starving and the sight of Norman Osborn’s corpse, of the free torn flesh, had almost turned him into a completely different type of monster. He could still remember the stomach cramps, the way he’d started salivating and had to swallow, breathing heavily as he stared at the blood on his hands and had the startling vision of himself licking his hands clean. He’d gone straight to Norman’s jewelry box, the one that belonged to his late wife and he’d used some articles of clothing to avoid leaving fingerprints when he opened it. He took only enough to make sure he could feed himself without taking more of Aunt May’s food and will to live. She was running on fumes to keep him alive and his appetite had grown too much for her to afford both him and the rent. So he’d just… stopped eating. He didn’t think it would drive him to near-cannibalism, but after that day he never let it get that bad again. 

 

The reminder made that particular session the hardest to stand so far. He’d nearly broken the metal table they strapped him to, but he kept counting even then. 

 

Now that they’d evidently poured something on his still oozing and likely infected scars, he could only grit his teeth as he got used to the sensation, too dehydrated and too proud to allow himself to cry. 

 

Someone was laughing at him. 

 

Peter lifted his cheek up from where it rested on the dirty paved floor and forced his brightest smile. “Shiklah,” he greeted, voice wrecked and pathetic but still a cheerful tone. Just so that she would know that he would _never_ need her. 

 

The Demon Queen gave a wide smile back as she leaned against the wall of his white cell. The Purple of her skin and outfit made her look oddly out of place in the lighting, but Peter knew he didn’t look like a beauty pageant contestant either. She didn’t acknowledge his greeting, she just walked toward him, one leg sliding in front of the other seductively with each step and Peter barked a sharp, painful laugh at the motion. It didn’t make her stop, but he saw doubt flicker in her eyes before she finally came to a stop, her heels set right in front of his chin, he form towering above where he lay, chained to the floor. 

 

“You’ll break soon,” she assured him. “And when you do… you’ll realize the inevitability of becoming _mine.”_  

 

Peter felt giggles climbing up his abused airway as he figured out that they had rubbed literal salt in his wounds. Cute. He blinked as he realized Shiklah was still in his room. “Did you need something again? Or are you just going to keep hitting on me? Because, let me tell you, it’s getting old-” 

 

Her heel stabbed into his chest, right over his heart, digging deep into his skin and cutting off his air as he realized it was so much sharper than a regular heel and it was _moving._ The thing was alive and it was wriggling under his chest, shredding at his skin and burrowing deeper toward his internal organs and Peter’s eyes shot open wide as he let out a soundless scream, terror sinking into his blood as it leaked from his chest in a violent stream. He was going to die, he’d rejected her desire for his soul enough times and now she was taking what she wanted and it was just his fucking luck that he would die as someone ripped his heart out of his chest cavity the way he did to the stains of his home city. 

 

It was so hideously _ironic_ that he started laughing hysterically, his throat barely managing to heal one layer of skin before it stopped trying as his system prioritized his chest. It was enough to laugh clearly, to sound absolutely chaotic and insane as his mirth took hold of him. It was too perfect. It was a great way to die and Shiklah retreated at the sheer joy on his features, heel tearing away from his body and taking a large strip of his skin. She stared at him with horror, golden eyes lost as they darted over his frail body and then locked on his face in a search for answers that he couldn’t provide because he didn’t know the questions she had. He was coughing up blood, but laughter still poured out of him as quickly as the blood and he was going to die, he knew it, but he couldn’t resist choking out a taunting, “Thought you said your husband would murder me in your honor?” He spat out a consistent stream of red, but he kept his eyes locked on her as he added, “Couldn’t wait for him, could you?” 

 

He couldn’t breathe, everything was fading to black, but he did hear the panicked footsteps rushing to his cell, and he heard the quiet his of, “Wade would kill you if it _pleased_ _me.”_  

 

He passed out with a wide grin as he had the thought, _where is he then?_  

 

It pleased him to no end that she could be having marital problems with whoever this ‘Wade’ was. If she was unhappy, Peter would be filled with _joy._ She could kill him, but she would never have his soul. Not to save his own life, at least. She could have it if it ever became _necessary,_ but only as a last resort. He had some self-respect after all. 

 

It turned out he wasn’t set to die yet. Either Shiklah spared him in an attempt to someday convince him to sell her his soul, or his DNA was so appealing to the S.H.I.E.L.D. researchers that they burst into the room, effectively forcing her to vanish as they attempted to save him. Demons weren’t visible to people that didn’t need them. Peter had realized that the first time one of her minions appeared in front of him and the others. They had all gone ballistic with fear while Peter noticed the confused looks on the faces of the guards who couldn’t see anyone in the empty center of the room. Situations like that happened often. People would react before they had a chance to think things through while Peter took in the view of their idiocy and their mistakes and held his tongue as he came up with a plan. 

 

He didn’t meet anyone with a similar approach to life until the agents dragged him out to the sleep deprivation rooms. They would sit two people in a room, no bounds or chains, seal the room, and then blast music and keep bright lights on until they either mutated or gave in and tried to kill each other. He had kept to himself for three days of torture before the hunger became too much and he knew he would have to murder the man they left in the room with him or starve to death. He’d seen the kind of action hunger could drive him to and he wasn’t going to allow himself to reach that point, to become so desperate that the stranger in his new cell would look appetizing. 

 

_We're on easy street,._

_And it feels so sweet,_

_'Cause the world is 'bout a treat!_

_When you're on easy street!_

 

He smiled at the man for the first time, a perfectly innocent friendly smile, but the man tensed and Peter blinked slowly as he realized that the guy was onto him. It shouldn’t have been surprising, the guy had been just as silent for the three day period as he had, but it still took Peter off guard and left him feeling unsteady as he rose to his feet. The guy had mirrored his movements, and then he’d finally returned the smile and shouted over the music, “I knew the Death Angel thing was bullshit. You just kill anyone that gets in your way.” 

 

Peter froze. He didn’t kill people for his own gain, he didn’t. He was just… he was so _hungry._ He didn’t want to be a monster. He wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t a cold blooded murderer, he was better than that. He’d been named the Death Angel for a _reason._  

 

He backed up against the wall on his side of the room and slid down it, feet sustaining him as he balanced his elbows on his knees and ran a hand through his hair. This guy hadn’t attacked him, he hadn’t even done anything and Peter had no right to kill him. His eyes rose up when he heard the stranger take one step in his direction and then narrowed. Yet. He hadn’t done anything _yet._  

 

_And we're breaking out the good champagne,_

_We're sitting pretty on the gravy train,_

_And when we sing every sweet refrain repeats!_

_Right here on easy street!_

 

The white lights flickered occasionally, teasing them with the idea of a power outage but never actually fading out completely, never allowing them to sleep. Peter was sure he would die soon. His metabolism couldn’t handle not eating for this long and he swayed a little to the side before righting himself, glaring at the guy who was staring at his movements. He’d probably heard about Peter’s case. He knew his face. He realized then, that if he ever got out of this shithole he would have to hide behind his old mask entirely to exist among the public. Or he could always wear a wig, women didn’t bring the suspicions out of people the way men did. He would have to invest in a pair of heeled boots, high collared shirts to hide his neck away. He wasn’t going to be undone by his appearance. 

 

Peter grew more paranoid with each passing hour, observing his cellmate and resisting the urge to flinch at every motion the man made because with every minute that they weren’t fed, Peter was growing weaker and weaker. They already hadn’t been feeding him enough, perplexed by his inability to sustain or put on any weight, but now he could feel himself withering away and there was no hope of him winning a fight. If the stranger decided to kill him, Peter would no longer be strong enough to fight back. 

 

_It's our moment in the sun,_

_And it's only just begun!_

_It's time to have a little fun!_

_We're inviting you to come and see why you should be!_

 

He felt delirious and exhausted, head too heavy for him to hold up any longer as he lay on the ground and when the song cut out for a few seconds before restarting, he took advantage of the brief silence to mumble, “Kill me, it’ll be easier. They’ll let you sleep.” 

 

His would-be murderer just watched him curiously, waiting for the song to be over again before he replied, “I’d rather die than kill an innocent again.” 

 

It wasn’t the statement itself that made Peter start laughing, breaking apart into small sobs as the song played out again. It was that he’d said that exact phrase a year ago before his arrest. He would rather die than kill an innocent again. 

 

_On easy street,_

_Yeah, we got a front row seat,_

_Oh, to a life that can't be beat!_

_Right here on easy street!_

 

The guy walked over to his side of the room, steps unsteady and quivering in a way that showed he wasn’t as unfazed by the lack of food as he seemed. Dark strands of matted black hair dusted his wide shoulders as he collapsed against the wall, sitting beside Peter and exhaling slowly, eyes closed as he shouted, “The name’s Bucky.” 

 

And that’s when Peter’s hazy mind made the connection between the single sleeved shirt covering the guy’s arm, his gaze falling to _Bucky’s_ fingertips and his breathing struggling to keep up as he started giggling like a child. He didn’t have the strength to shout, so he waited for the song to fade out again and when the stupid words, _we’re on easy street, and it feels so sweet,_ faded out for the billionth time, Peter gasped out, “You’re the fucking Winter Soldier.” 

 

The laughter kept tumbling out of him, his ribs aching with every brush against the floor that he was too weak to lift himself off of. “You’re _good_ now then? Last I heard, The Captain was _wrecked_ over your ass. You were controlled by Hydra, weren’t you? I’m guessing Cap saved you? Did he kiss it better?” 

 

Bucky tensed and Peter smiled as innocently as he could, but he knew it looked hollow. He was emaciated. He could see the bones in his arms prodding against his skin. He wasn’t the most reassuring person and truthfully, Bucky was probably furious at what he’d said about his supposed childhood best friend, but if Peter could just get the guy to kill him, he could make sure he wouldn’t completely lose his mind. He did not want to be reduced to taking a bite out of another person. 

 

This guy wasn’t breaking, though. He just inhaled and exhaled repeatedly before waiting for the next break between the same song rendition and saying, “Steve… Steve made me good.” 

 

Peter blinked slowly. He didn’t know what to make of that and Bucky didn’t offer up any further clarification, so when the song died out once more, Peter helpfully pointed out, “You didn’t deny that he kissed it better.” 

 

He was waiting to be punched with the metal arm. He knew he was too fragile to survive it at the moment. He could do one good thing. Just the one. The Avengers wouldn’t leave Steve’s childhood obsession to rot in a S.H.I.E.L.D. base. The guy had a chance. He could save everyone in the compound and Peter could let the responsibility cascade off his shoulders into a bloody puddle on the floor. 

 

But Bucky didn’t even glare at him. He just let his head fall back against the wall and stared at the ceiling as if he could imagine a scene somewhere beyond it, a small, desolate smile on his face as he replied, “No, I didn’t.” 

 

Ah. 

 

Well, Peter hadn’t been expecting that. 

 

_'Cause the world is 'bout a treat,_

_When you're on easy street!_

 

A gas started filling the room when the music cut out, only this time it didn’t start up again and Peter felt arms hauling his fragile limbs upward as a blissful wave of exhaustion consumed him. 

 

After the incident with Shiklah, they no longer left Peter in his own cell. They didn’t put him or Bucky in the sleep deprivation rooms again, mostly because they couldn’t figure out why Peter started dying so quickly when he was left there for a mere three days. They did, however, throw him into a cell with their two captured Avengers and Peter privately thought that was hilarious purely because they had no idea he’d almost been one of them. 

 

He got to meet Pepper a second time, though she was absolutely terrified of him and used Bucky as a shield the day that Peter was thrown into the small space with them. With Spiderman, she’d been incredibly sweet. She’d almost reminded him of his mother, even though he had precious few memories of her, but the moment she met Peter Parker, she kept a hand over her abdomen. It was immediately clear that she was very pregnant and Peter hadn’t looked forward to the birth. The child would be experimented on, turned into a mindless S.H.I.E.L.D. operative. She absolutely refused to speak to him about anything, much less her child, until Peter had a nightmare. She became tolerant of him after that. It seemed all she needed was some kind of proof that he could have human emotions. It would have been so _easy_ to just tell her he was Spiderman, but he knew that if she survived and told the press, it would make it impossible to navigate the hero world on his own and he didn’t trust anyone else to do it for him. 

 

Bucky, on the other hand, held conversations with him between torture sessions. Peter had a hard time caring about the man’s love for Steve Rogers, or their childhood. Hearing about their sappy romantic bond in their teenage years was mind-numbing, but Peter listened and let his smiles grow wider, his eyes flashing with little bits of emotion until he could tell Bucky felt his reactions were more genuine. And then Bucky told him about his mission to kill the Avengers. He had every intention of following through on his command until he heard Steve calling out to him in desperation and the quiet broken, “I love you,” as Bucky nearly crushed his spinal cord. 

 

It turned out Steve thought Bucky was dead, he’d been wrapped up into Stark’s drunken nights and started an ill-advised affair with the man. The second he realized Bucky was alive, he limited his interactions with Tony to those that could be kept strictly professional and Tony tried to respect it but he openly said he couldn’t be in a room with Bucky. In fact, it seemed their personal issues split the Avengers apart during key points of battle. Until Tony stubbornly stayed away from Steve during a blood bath and Steve got shot. It couldn’t have been enough to kill him, but it was enough to knock him down and cause a heavy amount of bleeding. Bucky was the only one close enough to get to him in time and when the second shot came, he shielded Steve with his body, the specialized bullet piercing through his lung. He couldn’t breathe, but he screamed out for Stark, begging across the bodies that littered the city. When Stark arrived, horror filtering through his eyes as he took them both in, more soldiers were coming, the bullets kept raining down and Stark was fending them off as best he could but Bucky was screaming at him to go, to save Steve. Bucky had been sure he would die, but Steve’s healing was heavily enhanced. He would survive, he would be fine if Stark took him away right then and there. Steve tried to fight Stark off, tears streaming down his face as he took in how much blood Bucky was losing, but Bucky just smiled at him and mouthed, ‘I love you,’ as Stark hauled a wounded Captain away until the man went limp in his arms. Pepper seemed to be asleep when Bucky told him that part of the story, but Peter caught a silent tear sliding down her cheek and he knew she was listening. He wondered if she had known even then, if she had stayed because she’d realized she was pregnant. Jealousy was a strange concept to Peter. He’d never felt it, he didn’t understand it. 

 

“So why didn’t you just share him?” he asked. “It would have solved all your problems.”

 

He didn’t see fit to include how Pepper would factor into the situation if she still didn’t care to interact with him. She wasn’t quite relevant to his world view anymore. She was growing weaker every day and he had an inkling that she wouldn’t survive giving birth to a child. He had a brief thought about whether or not the agents would see fit to raise the child or if they would leave the child with other experiments with the bare minimum nutritional requirements. The image of Bucky holding a baby crossed his mind and it took all of his willpower not to snort as he waited for Bucky to speak. 

 

Bucky blinked at him for the question and grunted out, “That… Tony wouldn’t have wanted that.” 

 

Both their eyes landed on Pepper when she rolled over to face her own wall. Peter could hear her pulse from across the room. She wasn’t asleep. It was painfully obvious that she wasn’t asleep. 

 

Pepper went into labor that same night, just as Peter was drifting to sleep, his new scars finally starting to heal over. He had to keep his mutation a secret, so often when the so-called scientists wounded him, he had to reopen the forming scabs to imitate a slower healing process. 

 

The guards didn’t come to retrieve Pepper. The moment she started screaming, the camera in the room shifted in her direction. No one came. Bucky guided her through the pain and the breathing sessions and the pushing parts and Peter did his best not to vomit from the strong smell that permeated the air. 

 

Pepper grew weak when the child came out. The room was stiflingly hot and disgusting and when Bucky tried to hand Pepper her daughter, Pepper started weeping quietly because she wasn’t strong enough to lift her arms to hold her child. Bucky chose to drag Peter close and hand him the girl as he hugged Pepper and told her, “It’s going to be okay. We’ll get out of here, we’ll get you back to Tony, you can have your family-” 

 

It didn’t seem that they knew each other very well before the facility, but Bucky seemed to have a soft spot for Pepper now. When she met Peter’s eyes and quietly asked him if she could see her daughter, Peter leaned a bit closer, letting the woman take in the wriggling form of her newborn as the baby rubbed tiny fists against her own closed eyes. Pepper gave a fragile smile before breathing out, “Morgan. Tony… Tony wanted to name her Morgan.” 

 

Peter nodded once, unsure how he was supposed to act during a… birthing. He’d never been in a situation like that and he made sure to memorize everything Bucky was murmuring into her scalp. “ _It’s okay, you’re okay, I’ve got you, you’re safe, everything’s going to be fine-”_

 

But Pepper stopped breathing and Bucky kept murmuring nonsense through tears, trying to reassure himself as he held what was now a lifeless woman. 

 

Peter sat on the flimsy mattress carefully as he held the infant against his chest. The little girl blinked two shockingly blue eyes open, moving tiny fists out of the way, chewing with her gummy jaws on a few fingers as her wide eyes focused on Peter’s. She patted one saliva-drenched fist on his chest and made a soft gurgling sound. She was precious. 

 

Then her eyes dropped to Peter’s shirt and she patted her fist down a second time. Small fractals of ice spread out on the wet surface left by her drool and Peter stared down at the child. Pepper had been taken for regular torture sessions in spite of her pregnancy, but she’d never come back with scars or tears and open wounds the way Peter and Bucky did. They hadn’t tried to mutate her at all, he realized. They had been experimenting on her unborn child and it had _worked._ He held the girl close, trying to angle her away from the camera as he frantically explained what was happening to Bucky, but the second he turned, guards barged into the room and Peter felt his body spasming out of his control as electricity travelled through his system. The child was ripped away from him, and the last thing Peter saw was the bloody throat of one of the guards that Bucky had bitten in an attempt to recover little Morgan. 

 

The next time he woke up, he was in a large room with sectioned off squares that had all their experiments chained down. Bucky and Morgan were nowhere to be seen, people’s names were being read off, along with their relevance and notoriety in society, and if they were deemed unimportant or irrelevant, they were shot. Peter yanked at his restraints, but these were also prepared to contain mutants. He asked everyone around him what the _hell_ was happening, but nobody answered him. No one said a damn thing and when he pissed off the people in charge enough, they took a sword and stabbed through his forearm, practically nailing him to the floor via large weapon. They left it there for the three hours that it took to filter through everyone before him, but when they finally got to him, the agent paled at his name and Peter grinned, flashing sharp teeth up at her with all the charm in the world as he imitated Bucky’s general look. 

 

She walked a few feet away from him and made a phone call. Peter could hear her whisper, “What do I do with him? We can’t let him go-” 

 

He was infinitely grateful that he could hear the other voice on the phone reply, “We can’t afford to keep him.” 

 

“We can’t kill him,” she insisted in a hiss. “You _know_ they would riot-” 

 

“Then, I don’t fucking _know!”_ the guy snapped. “We don’t have money for this operation anymore.” 

 

“Then _get_ the money for the operation,” she said through gritted teeth. “He’s the original-” 

 

“Oh, I’m sorry!” her counterpart spit out. “Let me just steal the money back from a band of _mercenaries._ Angel, you bitch, do you think I’m stupid? I’m not going to start a war with _Deadpool-”_  

 

“The war is _over, Kyle._ Wade Wilson has been handled before-” 

 

“And why do you think that is? He never stayed arrested. No jail can hold him. The only reason he hasn’t been a problem is because he was _willing_ to work with us. Take his money and he’ll have your head. The war is over because Deadpool _decided_ it was over. _You_ tell him you want his payout back and see how quickly it starts up again. Do you have a fucking _death wish?”_  

 

When Peter’s overseer protested again, the guy on the other end hung up and Peter bit the inside of his cheek to limit the size of the first genuine smile he’d worn since the beginning of this entire experience. He’d heard everything he needed to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually finished on time today oh my gosh. I feel so accomplished. 
> 
> I know this chapter was different and I kind of left on a small cliffhanger last chapter but there were just SO MANY QUESTIONS on Bucky and Pepper and the baby and Peter's time in the facility that I figured I'd go ahead and finally give you guys a Peter chapter. He does not get easily attached guys, Deadpool really is an exception, Peter isn't some sort of prince in this fic? He's got his own issues, just like Wade. They have feelings and emotions and they can love but it's not quite as easy for Peter to empathize with people as it is for Wade. Just wanted that to be clear. 
> 
> ANYWAY! Let me know what you thought and FEED ME ALL THE COMMENTS. Gonna do my best to reply on Monday to everything in my inbox. (Also, gonna edit this chapter a little later, sorry if you spot mistakes, I was admittedly sleepy as I wrote this). But I just realized this is over 5k and yay! I met my goal today! 
> 
> Much love, Katana. 
> 
> OH! Also, the Spideypool Big Bang 2019 event still has artist and Beta sign ups open if any of you want to join! I can share a link if anyone's interested.


	16. Cause of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade and Peter talk for a while, then Wade gets a phone call. He leaves the apartment and regrets every decision he made afterward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be prepared. I'm dropping a bomb in this chapter :)

It was a manipulation, that was plain as day. They had been strangers, they had been nothing and somehow-- Wade had been obsessed. It wasn’t genuine, not the way Wade wished it had been meant, but still he was lost in brown doe eyes and long lashes. He found himself leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on Peter’s lips, pouring his emotions out into the barest of touches. He had been Peter’s first priority, even when he meant nothing to him. He wasn’t deluding himself into believing Peter cared for him much yet, no, but Peter was trying so hard to get him to believe it that Wade had to melt at the effort. The longer someone kept up a lie, the deeper it sunk into their bones and one day the lie would be a truth Peter would accept and Wade-- he was willing to wait forever and a half. 

 

[You genuinely believe this. You think he’s going to care.] 

 

{You like him! Admit it-} 

 

[I don’t think he’s useless anymore, maybe not a threat, but I don’t think he’ll ever have the emotions either of you want him to feel and you  _ are _ deluding yourself-] 

 

{HE’S A CUTIE AND YOU LOVE HIM AND  _ YOU’RE _ THE DELUSIONAL ONE-} 

 

[He’s insane and he has no other options like us, not unless Wolverine develops a murder kink-] 

 

{Cool, so you agree we should take what we can get-} 

 

[I didn’t say that, those words were not said-] 

 

Wade pulled away with a slight sigh, annoyed with White and Yellow for ruining his moment… and then he saw Peter giving him a playful grin and remembered why he couldn’t indulge in the warmth of his new boyfriend. 

 

“Tony’s dying.” 

 

Peter blinked at him, a slow, soundless stare as his amusement died.

 

“Is he?” came the unfazed reply. 

 

{Ooof!  _ Cold. _ } 

 

[What were you expecting? That he’d suddenly be all caring and worried-] 

 

{No!  _ We like him just the way he is- _ }

 

Wade laid his head back against the couch cushions beside Peter’s head. He did like Peter. He had liked Spiderman too, though and he wasn’t sure how much of him had been real and how much had been Peter trying to get him interested. There was so much he didn’t know about him still and he knew, realistically, that Peter was using him. Wade didn’t mind being used. He had more of Peter than anyone else ever did. He just hoped that one day he could have  _ everything. _ Distractedly, he answered, “Liver failure. It’s kind of obvious, but I’m not sure if the others know yet.” 

 

His Angel closed his eyes and hummed for a moment before murmuring, “That’s a shame.” 

 

[What? No-] 

 

{But… wouldn’t he be happy to hear-} 

 

“A shame,” Wade echoed. 

 

“A shame,” Peter repeated, eyes blinking open. “He would have been easy to… look. There isn’t much Stark wouldn’t do for family. He isn’t a great influence, not the best partner and I’m not entirely sure he would make a good father, but he would die to make sure his family was safe. He lost Pepper and he’s a mess of a person. It’s honestly a little embarrassing, but if Stark knew he had a  _ child? _ If he knew Pepper’s child survived and that I was the only person that knew where she was?” An almost hungry look flashed across warm brown eyes. “Stark would do anything I asked of him. And if he knew what S.H.I.E.L.D. put his wife through? I don’t think I would have to try very hard to get him to level entire compounds all on his own.” He snuggled into his preferred cushion and quietly added, “So it’s a shame.”

 

Wade took Peter’s hand in his and watched as Peter’s eyes locked on the motion, a pleased little smile stretching across his features. “How long have you been planning this?” 

 

His precious fugitive merely rested his head on Wade’s hand instead of the cushion. “I’ve had a long time to think about things, months to myself to find out what happened in my absence. I shouldn’t have-” he abruptly cut himself off and breathed out, body curled up closer to Wade, both feet tucked under Wade’s thigh as he said, “I missed out on a lot.” 

 

[He’s hiding something.] 

 

{He’s always hiding something, at least he trusts us with-} 

 

White started cackling. [You call this  _ trust? _ Dear fuck. No, no, he’s… He’s your match in more ways than one but don’t trick yourself into believing that anything he feels for you is real. Did you not  _ hear _ him? He shouldn’t have  _ what? _ He’s not telling you things because he doesn’t quite see you as a permanent part of his life!] 

 

{We’re as  _ permanent as we fucking need to be. _ Ever heard of patience, bitch? That’s a thing! You don’t go up to a person and expect them to pour their life story out- not even  _ therapists _ can expect that-} __

 

[Yeah. So how many fuckers do you need to kill for him before he feels what you want him to feel. No, this is a  _ lie. _ The way he wants to manipulate Stark? Because it would be so easy? He’s doing the same thing to you! Except he  _ doesn’t even have to try and you bought him a ring- _ ] 

 

{YOU HELPED PICK IT OUT-} 

 

Wade winced at the volume in his head, hand jerking back a little in Spidey’s grip. His Death Angel held fast to him and linked their fingers together, waiting for Wade to talk to him with all the patience in the world and Wade felt the voices blurring, his mind clearing for only a moment as he relaxed. This was why Wade couldn’t listen to White. He just couldn’t. Peter Parker hadn’t been around him for very long and somehow he was already so in tune with Wade’s emotions that he could silence his panic with nothing but a small movement of his fingers; he didn’t even need  _ words _ and Wade was gone. Helpless. How was he ever supposed to resist? When he said nothing, Peter leaned forward and kissed his forehead and Wade forgot all his worries. 

 

Until Peter asked, “Tell me about the last few days?” His smile was all teeth as he added, “You didn’t spend all of it missing me, did you?” 

 

[That’s just it. That, right there. He knew you were with the Avengers and that’s his priority, not you-] 

 

{So it’s a mutually beneficial relationship-} 

 

[Mutual. What are we getting out of this? A bond with the Avengers? He doesn’t care about any of them! He just wants to use them as pawns. A step up in our reputation? We’ve all but lost it now that the world knows what Deadpool felt for Spiderman. No merc will respect us or work for us again, not to mention that they were already angry about the whole Death Angel ordeal! What is it? The fact that he doesn’t look at you like a monster?] 

 

{You’re so fucking self-centered that you can’t even see what he means to us-} 

 

[WHAT IS IT?] 

 

{You can’t even stop to think for two seconds that-} 

 

[That  _ WHAT-? _ ] 

 

Wade kissed the edge of Peter’s wrist briefly. “I did miss you, Petey,” he whispered. He watched, mesmerized as Peter met his eyes and a hue of red rose up on his skin, almost as if he couldn’t believe someone missed him at all, as if the honesty of it took him by surprise. With warmth blossoming in his chest, Wade confessed, “You’re the only person who doesn’t focus on my crimes. You look at me and it’s almost like-- like I’m not a monster. Except I am. I always will be and you’re the only person that doesn’t care.” 

 

[Christ. You’re going to just hand him the opening he needs to concede when it isn’t genuine-] 

 

“You’re wrong,” Peter mumbled, gaze sweet, a teasing smile half hidden into the couch. 

 

[Wait, what?] 

 

{HA! SUCKER-} 

 

“Your crimes saved my life. Your jobs led to my release and-- eventually-- my escape. I was held captive by the law, abandoned by those who considered themselves heroes, and when I needed a monster-- I had you. You’re the mercenary that S.H.I.E.L.D. feared so much, the murderer-for-hire that the Avengers avoided for so long, the hero ignored by the world in favor of their defeated heroes and when I needed an escape plan, you beat me to it. Wade. Wade, I will never love you. That’s just a fact of life,” Peter dropped the small bottle of nail polish in his other hand and cradled Wade’s cheek in his palm. “But I promised you I would be yours.” 

 

 [Oh.] 

 

{You idiot.} 

 

Wade glanced back and forth between Peter’s eyes, his own watching every minute expression as he spoke, his pulse steady in his veins as he understood what Peter meant. No, the famed Death Angel didn’t believe he could love Wade; he didn’t believe he could love  _ anyone, _ but Wade was well aware of those beliefs from the start and every time Peter tried to make him turn away, it just felt like he was sheltering himself. 

 

He wasn’t going to argue. 

 

{He sees us. He sees what we are and he’s still afraid that we’re going to leave him}, Yellow sighed out, tone love struck and amazed. 

 

White said nothing, retreating as he always did when something was beyond his comprehension. 

 

Wade left White to his own devices. He was a smart box, he would figure it out. He focused on Peter, and he let go of his hand, sliding to the side and laying his head in his precious killer’s lap, watching the bewildered expression that crossed Peter’s face as his hands hovered over Wade’s form before he placed one palm on his chest and the other just behind his ear, scratching lightly at the skin there. Pleased with how comfortable Petey was becoming with physical contact, Wade yawned and said, “Thor’s back by the way.” 

 

Peter’s hands went carefully still and his lips thinned. “Oh?” 

 

Wade turned his head into Peter’s thigh and sighed. “Didn’t get a chance to tell you before I had to hang up. He’s back, though. Doesn’t like me much. He’s got kind of a stick up his ass now that he’s not the team favorite-”

 

Peter’s hand started scratching absently behind Wade’s ear again as he looked at the wall in thought. “Did he mention Loki?” 

 

Wade blinked once. 

 

[What relevance does Loki play in-] 

 

{He did show up in one of the battles-} 

 

[It’s not like he was  _ fighting. _ He swept in only for- oh.] 

 

{STOP DOING THAT. I WANT TO BE IN ON THINGS TOO-} 

 

Wade hesitated only for a second, but it was enough for Peter’s eyes to snap back to him in curiosity. “He didn’t,” Wade replied. “Anything you wanna share with the class, Babycakes? Anything concerning a prickly green acquaintance?” 

 

Peter snorted and leveled a grin down at Wade. “He’s not actually green. If anything, he’s probably the palest person I know-” 

 

[Know.] 

 

{Know?} 

 

“Know! You  _ know _ him,” Wade exclaimed. Of course, Wade met Loki- once. And the God hadn’t exactly approved of him… beyond making a joke about being his father. It was a joke that still bewildered Wade to this day, mostly because he probably wouldn’t have been too bothered to have an eccentric for a parent. “Is he still around? Come to Earth lately? Does he still want to be my Papi-” 

 

Peter rolled his eyes and cut him off. “As amusing as I find all of these… odd questions, Loki and I were just friends? In a sense. There were a couple months during my hero stint where Stark allowed Loki into the Tower on Thor’s behalf. He was trying to be nice? Failing more than anything, but whenever they paged me, we crossed paths. Loki just- understood things. I never unmasked for any of them and,” Peter paused to laugh, mirth visible in his eyes as he said, “He still said I had the eyes of a monster. I was so  _ paranoid _ , but he looked… intrigued. I don’t think it was a threat. Thinking back on it, he probably just realized I was hiding more than a name from them.” 

 

“And you think he would be interested,” Wade gathered. “In what we’re doing.” 

 

Peter nodded sharply, canines visible in his smile like tiny daggers. “He kept approaching me, he addressed you when the others were content to ignore your presence. He had that entire showdown with his brother before everything went to hell. And all it took for the Son of Odin himself to retreat back home was his brother walking into a war zone to save him.” His teeth were more visible by the second, eyes shining in the starlight from the window. “Thor ceases to be a threat the moment his brother is in danger.” 

 

[I have questions.] 

 

{Does he ship it-} 

 

[I don’t like that I have questions-] 

 

{ _ Does he- _ } 

 

Wade blurted out, “So you ship it,” before he could stop himself and Peter leaned to the side to stifle his sudden fit of laughter into the arm rest. 

 

“Sure,” he gasped, a ridiculous smile lingering on his face despite his obvious attempts at suppressing it. “Sure, why not?” 

 

Wade’s phone started ringing and Peter nonchalantly pulled it out of his pocket for him, missing the quick look of panic on Wade’s face because A) he had a ring in there and B) he knew that ringtone and his whole cover story had involved coming home from Weasel’s bar. 

 

{HOW COULD YOU JUST LET HIM TOUCH THE POUCHES-} 

 

[Thought you trusted him? Hmmm? Where’d that trust go? Oh, right! It’s completely unjustified-] 

 

{He cares, he just doesn’t realize-} 

 

[So someone shows you a little kindness and you assume they love you-] 

 

{I KNOW HE DOESN’T LOVE US, OKAY!} Yellow screamed. {I know that. Stop it. Let me hope.} 

 

White stopped. Wade tried to pretend he didn’t feel sad all of a sudden. 

 

Peter looked at the name  _ Greasy Lenses, _ and handed Wade the phone with a chuckle. “Do you name all your contacts based on their accessories?”

 

“Yes,” Wade replied instantly, latching onto the opportunity to avoid Yellow’s newfound pessimism. “Always. How else am I supposed to remember them, Webs? Names are  _ hard. _ ” 

 

Peter shook his head at him and Wade answered the phone carefully, hoping Weasel would pick up on the subtlety. “Hey, Sweatshop! Did I leave anything behind? I know things got a little out of hand back there, everyone wants a piece of the ‘Pool-” 

 

Weasel was silent for all of three seconds and then he spoke slowly. “You should come back. We need to talk about your next job and you need to  _ pay for the damages to my fucking bar,  _ you burnt piece of-” 

 

{I don’t like him} Yellow mumbled. 

 

[Yes, because he’s a reasonable human being-] 

 

Peter took the phone from Wade’s grip despite his protesting, “Hey!” and promptly ended the phone call, much to White’s offense. 

 

“Webs,” Wade stated. “As cute as your whole jealousy kink is-” 

 

Peter flicked Wade’s forehead and ignored his glaring, instead replying with, “I don’t have a jealousy kink. He doesn’t need to insult you to get your attention and I’m not sure why you put up with it-” 

 

“That’s just how we get along, Petey-” 

 

“Nevertheless,” Peter insisted, “He can expect you soon enough. The rest of that conversation was wholly unnecessary.” 

 

Wade felt the edge of his mouth twitching upward despite himself, his small smile growing into a shit-eating grin as he leaned up and kissed the corner of the Death Angel’s jaw. “I’ll be back, Petey-pie.” 

 

White sounded like he was a thousand years old when he muttered, [Yes. You’ll keep returning to him. That’s obvious enough.] 

 

Within a few minutes, Wade was re-dressed in his Deadpool suit, Peter had passed out on the couch-- Wade stopped on his way out to tuck in his sweetheart with two cozy blankets--and Wade was out of the apartment once more. He had to stop for food because his body either demanded sleep or food, he couldn’t function forever without at least one of the options. After about a half hour, Wade was bursting in through the door of the bar to find the usual string of people passed out on the dingy floorboards at five in the morning. There, at the center of the mess, was Weasel. The dark circles under his eyes had darkened considerably and Wade almost felt concerned. Almost. 

 

He plopped down into a seat at the bar, the one farthest to the left which meant that Weasel would have to walk over to talk to him, and he proceeded to pick at his teeth with a toothpick. 

 

Weasel sighed and it sounded like the longest, most aggravated sigh in the world. Finally, he dragged himself over and Wade let out a loud snort. “Got any dreams?” 

 

Yellow laughed. 

 

[Must you both play the antagonist of every conversation we have-?] 

 

“You need sleep to have dreams, so no, I don’t, Fuckwad.” 

 

Wade beamed. “Oh! Nightmares keeping you up at night? Is it me? Am I the star of your deepest, darkest thoughts-” 

 

“Sure,” Weasel spit out, rubbing over his eyelids with the thumb and fingers of one hand. When he looked at Wade again, it became evident that the whites of his eyes had gone red with exhaustion. “I fantasize about a way to kill you. Do you think that’s healthy?” 

 

Wade crossed his legs and leaned forward on the counter, accidentally knocking over a bowl of peanuts as he rested his elbows in front of him and his chin over his hands. He glanced to the side, noting the fall peanut-bowl-the-third, and shrugged, making eye contact with Weasel as the glass crashed and shattered on the floor. He smiled. “Everyone fantasizes about killing me. Got a plan yet? An agenda? Thirty-two ways to torture an immortal?” 

 

Weasel glared at him, not a single line of humor on his face and Wade pouted. Usually he at least got  _ one _ laugh out of the guy. 

 

“You carried Spiderman to an ambulance.” 

 

Wade tensed. He looked at Weasel’s haggard appearance, the dirty glasses. Wade liked to tease him for his questionable hygiene, but Weasel often took great care of his glasses. They just happened to meet when Weasel had gone on a hacking spree weekend. During his little phases, Weasels hair became frazzled, the bags beneath his eyes grew more prominent, he would shave to keep himself from wasting valuable time scratching at a growing beard, but he would fail to take a shower which meant that there would be small, dried nicks of blood between regrowing patches of hair. He would forget to eat too, his frame growing slightly thinner, clothes musty from several days without changing or moving from his favored rolling chair. The most telling sign of a productive weekend was when Weasel’s glasses became smudged from the inside. He had a bad habit of rubbing at his eyes without actually taking his glasses off. 

 

“I did,” Wade replied, tone cautiously devoid of any inflection. 

 

[He knows.] 

 

{There’s no way he has any proof-} 

 

[It doesn’t matter. He knows and we fucked up. We. Fucked. Up.] 

 

“You looked like you were terrified.” 

 

“I’m never terrified-” 

 

“Bullshit!” Weasel shouted, his fists slamming on the counter on either side of Wade’s elbows. He quickly reached inside his pocket, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple as he pulled out his phone and replayed a video save to his gallery. 

 

On the screen, Deadpool was running wildly with a bleeding Spiderman in his arms, cradling  him like he was the most precious and fragile thing in the world. Wade grimaced. He had really thought- 

 

[I told you it was a lie. I  _ told you- _ ] 

 

{Shut the fuck up for a second.} 

 

Weasel waited until the small clip ended with Deadpool forcing his way into an ambulance and then returning to the fight. 

 

“You’re gonna tell me you weren’t scared for your-- ha. No! No, you were scared for  _ his _ life. Except  _ how the fuck  _ would you know him? When did you have the time to fall for a  _ hero-” _

 

“Wease, you should stop-” 

 

“Fuck you-” 

 

[Don’t. He’s not done-] 

 

{He’s about to be done in the next minute if he doesn’t mind his own fucking business.} 

 

“Weasel, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wade tried, but Weasel was sleep deprived and  _ furious. _

 

“Fuck. You. Wilson,” he growled. “You know, I thought- we  _ all _ thought you had gone insane. More batshit than ever. Except you weren’t just protecting Spiderman. No, no, you had to ruin any chance of anyone  _ ever _ trusting you again by siding with the  _ Avengers. _ Of all the fucking people! Even during the  _ war _ , we formed our own faction, fought our own battles, did what we had to because we were  _ paid. _ But you- you defended them free of charge! You became a fucking  _ traitor-” _

 

[I knew he would react like this. I fucking  _ called _ it but you just don’t  _ listen- _ ] 

 

{Traitor.  _ Excuse me, what, Bitch? _ } 

 

There was a lot of screaming in his head, but Wade didn’t stop to think before he moved. In the next second, Weasel was bent back against his wall of liquor, a bright red mark across his cheek, teeth grinding together as he struggled to stay up. “I betrayed  _ no one,” _ Wade hissed. He snatched at Weasel’s matted hair with one gloved hand and slammed the bruised side of his face into the counter in one swift movement. “All your mercs work for money and nothing else. Don’t talk to me about  _ loyalty _ when we both know they would take me out if they ever figured out how to do it. You want to talk about the war and the battles I fought? The only reason your business  _ survived _ is because I kept those fuckers alive.  _ I  _ led them.  _ I  _ killed the major threats.  _ I  _ was the first person in every war zone, the first one in every new territory, the first one to step into possible traps. Without me, every single one of them would be  _ six feet underground.” _ Wade’s grip in Weasel’s hair became painfully tight, but he loosened his hold after a couple of tense seconds in silence and he laughed quietly. “Was that all, ‘ol buddy? We done here?” 

 

Wade began to stand, dusting off the back of his thighs because the seats in this place weren’t exactly  _ tidy, _ but Weasel grunted and Wade grunted back in annoyance. 

 

“ _ What? _ ” he bit out. 

 

Weasel played another clip for him, his arm shaking. It was probably a combination of the lack of sleep and the anger, but Wade pretended that Weasel shook because he was afraid of him. The idea made him smile. His smile died at the sight of the next clip and the realization that White was correct. Weasel knew. 

 

The video ended and Wade glared at the counter. 

 

Weasel got out a bottle of tequila and started drinking directly from it, evidently far too sober to handle this conversation. 

 

“You called him the one. Your soulmate.” 

 

[He- shouldn’t be. He’s not safe.] 

 

{He  _ is _ }, Yellow insisted. 

 

Wade didn’t look up, his gaze focused on the counter and the dents in the surface. “So?” 

 

Weasel gulped down another mouthful. “People didn’t know whether to think you fucked up by siding with the goodie-two-shoes, or if you did the right thing by fighting the guy that would gladly eviscerate us all.” 

 

Wade barked a laugh and Weasel snorted along with him before the reality of the situation sunk in for them again, gravity weighing down any passing amusement. 

 

“I know,” Weasel stated plainly, “How stupid of them to assume they factored into your decision at all.” 

 

“Damn straight,” Wade agreed. 

 

Weasel smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was tainted and unhinged and masquerading as normal. “I’ve got thousands of surveillance videos of your missions. I know how you fight, I know when you’re trying to kill a man and I know when you’re just toying with people. I know when you’re having fun. That,” he pointed at the screen, “Is not what you look like when you want to see someone bleed. And Parker? He lowered his hood, but the hoodie was still zipped high enough to cover any view of his neck. It’s kind of interesting, isn’t it, that they never found Spiderman’s body?” 

 

{Kill him-} 

 

[No! Listen-] 

 

Wade glared up at Weasel. “And what if he is who you think he is? What the fuck, then, Weasel? Who are you going to tell that would believe you? What do you get out of it?” He took a gun out of his holster and levelled the weapon at Weasel’s head. “Answer real fucking carefully, ‘cause I’ve been a good boy for  _ days _ and I’m a little trigger happy right now.” 

 

Weasel, for once, didn’t flinch away from his gun. He merely stared back at Wade and took two files out from one of the drawers behind the counter, setting the navy blue folders in front of Wade neatly. 

 

Wade didn’t lower his gun. “What the fuck is this?” 

 

“I don’t stand to gain anything from telling people who he is. You’re right, no one would believe me. The Avengers would come after me for slandering their precious hero’s name, or they would try to get me to  _ cooperate _ with them which would ruin everything I have. The mercs certainly wouldn’t stand by the man that outed the Death Angel. That’s setting themselves up for homicide via association. I’m not an idiot, you fuck.” 

 

[See? Voice of reason here! Take two seconds to lapse out of your idiocy and talk to a human being that at least has their shit somewhat together-] 

 

{Yes, of course. Let’s listen to the guy who looked like a drowned rat and smells like one. That seems  _ wise- _ } 

 

Wade kept his arm steady, the barrel of the gun pressing against Weasel’s forehead. “I didn’t ask you what you were going to do. I asked you what the  _ fuck these are.” _

 

Weasel laughed. He laughed and he laughed and he broke down crying, wiping exhausted tears from his scruffy face and he looked up at Wade. Wade lowered the gun in confusion and finally Weasel replied, “Maybe you’ll actually kill me this time. I don’t know. Fuck it-- I’m not going to tell you what to do, Wade. I’m tired. All I can do is show you what I know and hope you make the right choice. Hell, I  _ hope _ you make the right choice.” 

 

{Don’t read them-} 

 

[Look at them. He’s never steered us wrong-]

 

{NO-} 

 

Wade looked down at the files, two names staring back at him from the edge of the folders. The first was Harry Osborn. It sounded familiar, but why did it- 

 

Peter Parker’s first known victim. Norman Osborn. Wade didn’t touch the file, looking up at Weasel in confusion. 

 

“I’m going to bed,” Weasel said, stumbling to the side and catching himself on the edge of the counter. “Kill me in my sleep if you need to, I don’t care anymore.” 

 

Wade didn’t stop him, the boxes didn’t even ask him to, and Weasel stumbled up the stairs to his apartment. 

 

Harry Osborn. 

 

_ The man tilted his head to the side in what seemed to be light contemplation, his eyes flickering between the whites of Deadpool’s mask, analyzing him in silence, and finally he asked, in such a quiet volume that Deadpool could barely make out the words, “Did Harry send you to end me?”  _

 

He touched the edge of the file, his curiosity warring with his doubt. Peter would tell him. Peter would tell him if he asked. Except Peter never mentioned a single name from his past that wasn’t already a public name. He spoke of the nameless man who killed his uncle, he talked about Bucky and made concise statements about his time in a S.H.I.E.L.D. compound, but he never talked about his family, friendships beyond those of his hero persona. He kept all of his life outside of the murders and the heroism to himself and Wade-- Wade had answers. They were right in front of him. All he had to do was look. 

 

{Please, Please don’t-} 

 

[What if he’s worse than what you think he is?] 

 

Wade glanced to the side at the half empty bottle of tequila Weasel left behind and he took a sip. A sip became two, two became three, three became the rest of its contents. 

 

He wasn’t drunk, he was barely even buzzed and he knew it wouldn’t last longer than a few minutes but the voices were further away and Wade… he reached out to look at Harry Osborn’s file. 

 

_ Day 1  _

 

_ Patient S, Harry Osborn.  _

 

_ He was admitted a few weeks ago. He still appears to have self-harming tendencies. Attempts at conversation were not received well. He opens up when asked about his paternal figure, but refuses to speak on any other subject. The patient grows violent when any mention of the name Peter is made. One of the nurses in the isolation ward is named Peter and he had to switch shifts for the time being. Osborn has attacked him multiple times. He is being placed on medication. Antidepressants, mainly. His volatile behavior has caused many of the senior staff to consider light sedatives, but the patient cannot improve if he is never conscious enough to try.  _

 

_ Day 7  _

 

_ Patient S, Harry Osborn.  _

 

_ Osborn came to my office on his own today, without the need of an escort. The boy asked me if the ‘false-Peter’ can be removed from his ward. He seems to believe that his company’s donations change his status here. They do not. I did inform him, however, that our nurse has managed to find better employment elsewhere and this seemed to relax him significantly. He was in a better mood today. He spoke about the ‘real-Peter.’ The person he describes seems to fall in line with what we know so far. Osborn claims that after the death of his father, Parker paid him several home visits-- helping him keep the house clean, looking after him, getting him to enjoy movies and to consider returning to school. For all intents and purposes, he describes Parker as the ideal friend. He claims Peter to be a liar. He repeated the phrase, “He was lying, I know it,” several times during the session but failed to elaborate what Parker was lying about. Further inquiries will be made.  _

 

_ Day 15  _

 

_ Patient S, Harry Osborn.  _

 

_ The patient is experiencing hallucinations. Further inquiries into his relationship with the subject have been fruitless. He ran into the session, frantic. He claims that Peter Parker has been in his room, that the boy somehow scaled a thirty foot building, removed the bars over his window, and silenced him. The bars on his window are still intact. Peter Parker had not had a mutation. What he is describing is impossible, but he insists on it. He asked to be moved and-- it seems his money does grant him a higher status than the other patients. He’s been moved to the West Hall, where the windows are too small for anyone to fit through. We’ve sent notice to his guardians of his lack of improvement and are waiting for their word on how we should proceed. I don’t think he has any useful information, but I won’t falter.  _

 

_ Day 23  _

 

_ Patient S, Harry Osborn.  _

 

_ It has been over three weeks since the patient was admitted. He claims that Peter Parker crawled into the room through his heating vent. He broke down when I asked how that made him feel. Nothing productive happened during this session.  _

 

_ Day 25  _

 

_ Patient S, Harry Osborn.  _

 

_ Today, Osborn refused to take any of his medication. When forced, he bit a nurses hand until she bled. He was sedated and--subsequently-- we had no session. He is deteriorating and the window of opportunity is closing. I fear we may have to start from square one.  _

 

_ Day 28  _

 

_ Patient S, Harry Osborn.  _

 

_ The boy has stopped eating. He has been sedated multiple times within the past three days. He told me he doesn’t know which Peter is real and which Peter is fake anymore. He says that Peter is always there, always in the corner of the room. He said the ‘clean’ Peter touched his hair and apologized to him, but that it wasn’t a real apology. His exact words were, “I’m sorry that I thought of your safety as my first priority. I didn’t know it would ruin you.” The hallucinations are interesting, growing elaborate, but they bear no relevance to our interests. In fact, Osborn has started to claim that Peter’s hands look too clean. He specifically mutters, “They shouldn’t look that clean,” to himself. I, and the rest of the staff, are unsure of what to do. They’re setting him up with an IV for nutrients now that he refuses all food. When I asked him why he’s chosen to fast, he smiled at me for the first time and explained that we couldn’t force him to live if he didn’t want to. Osborns always get what they want. He is… peculiar. I don’t see much reason for he and Peter to have associated with one another, beyond the traumatic events of their childhood.  _

 

_ Day 37  _

 

_ Patient S, Harry Osborn.  _

 

_ The boy is being removed from the facility. His company guardians have decided to move him to a private mental health establishment. They refuse to disclose the location of said facility and they, unfortunately, have a court order. However, all is not lost. The patient told me I should tell Gwen. I am unsure as to what he meant for me to tell this person. Upon further inspection, their school only has one student in their grade level by the name of Gwen. Gwen Stacy-- a girl who shares several advanced classes with Parker. I will send further reports once I have made contact.  _

 

Wade stared at the file for a long time. 

 

{It’s bullshit. They  _ said _ he was hallucinating!} 

 

[They hadn’t arrested him yet. They didn’t know- they  _ still _ don’t know he has powers. Of course they would assume they were hallucinations. And then he was drugged up and consistently told that the person he was seeing wasn’t real, combined with depression, suicide attempts, a recent death in the family. He lost his mind.] 

 

{It’s a  _ lie _ }, Yellow bit out. 

 

Wade stared at the apology. Priorities. It sounded like something Peter would say, but it was obviously not as harsh as the file made it seem. Peter had killed Norman, presumably for his friend’s safety, and his friend had lost his mind when Peter tried to apologize for being a good friend. Oops? Wade didn’t really understand. A friend of his had killed his father and, sure, Wade had been angry at the time that the opportunity was swept away from him, but he still expressed a little fucking gratitude. 

 

What exactly did Weasel think Wade would take away from this? How unappreciated his boyfriend was? Because that’s all that Wade was getting. 

 

He was tempted to swipe a bottle of vodka and set the files on fire. Except his nerves were on edge and  _ who the hell was Gwen Stacy? _

 

[Her name wasn’t listed on Peter’s victim list.] 

 

{But- it seems familiar?} 

 

[Yeah, but why would we recognize the name of a teenage girl? He hasn’t exactly mentioned anyone-] 

 

Wade glared down at the unopened file for several minutes. He could burn it. Weasel could suck a cock. He  _ would burn it. _

 

{Do it! Burn it! Walk away, Petey will tell us all we need to know-}

 

[Liar.] 

 

He didn’t burn it. 

 

A sense of dread swept over him as he opened the folder and saw an article with the title,  _ Spiderman Kills  Late Chief of Police’s Daughter. _ Right. Back when Spiderman was still a new name, the papers ripped into him for failing to save a girl who was allegedly kidnapped by the Green Goblin. Wade said  _ allegedly, _ because he’d never come across any footage of the incident, there were no pictures of the scene beyond a body that was covered by a sheet in the road, and the one image that held a crouching Spiderman was printed by the Daily Bugle and looked suspiciously like a photograph of the hero taken a month or so earlier. 

 

He read the article a second time anyway, every detail about the webbing catching her at the last moment before the impact-- how that failed spectacularly and she was dead before anyone else arrive on the scene. It went on about how terrible it was for the force to relive the death of their Chief in the loss of his daughter. It was an elegant story. Truly. 

 

[But the file wouldn’t have so many papers stuffed in it if the events could be wrapped up so easily.] 

 

{Stop. Petey’s never going to forgive us for this! You’re throwing everything away over-} 

 

[If his past is so private that he’s willing to get rid of us for it, maybe we’ve got a right to know! You don’t buy a car without knowing the mileage on it-] 

 

{HE’S NOT A FUCKING CAR, THOUGH, IS HE?} Yellow was almost in tears, his frustration palpable enough to give Wade a headache, but he had to know. No, Peter wasn’t a car, but Wade wanted to keep him safe and for that-- he needed to know what they would use against him. Convincing himself that he was doing this for the right reasons, Wade soldiered on. 

 

There were pages upon pages of reports of Gwen’s mental health and her relationship with Peter. She talked about him like he was  _ everything. _ She admitted that at first it had been an ill-advised crush on someone that she wanted to protect, but she went on to describe the way they met- just two awkward teenagers paired for a project in a biology course, how they became close after she stood between him and Flash- 

 

_ Flash Thompson.  _

 

Wade felt… conflicted. On the one hand, he was incredibly pleased to realize that he’d killed one of Peter’s abusers already. On the other hand, the  _ piece of shit hadn’t suffered enough. _

 

[It… it’s a bit suspicious that his teenage bully would end up in the same isolation ward as he did.] 

 

{ _ This isn’t something we can talk about though, is it!? _ } Yellow screamed, {We can’t ask about it! He’s going to fucking know!} 

 

Wade had to stop reading to calm himself. The boxes were pulling him in opposite directions and Yellow was right, but Wade had gone too far in to stop. 

 

When he forged ahead, he realized that Gwen Stacy was Peter’s Vanessa Carlysle. No, she wasn’t perfect for him and if she was privy to all of his flaws, she would have left, just like Vanessa had. But Gwen was the kind of person that outshone everyone in her vicinity and made you feel warm without trying. The things she said, the way she expressed herself- it was the way those special people did, the ones everyone had. They came into your life and smiled and the world felt safe again, they reassured you and for a simple moment your burdens ceased to exist. She was Peter’s Vanessa, and she was gone. There were several photos of her in the reports. Wade wasn’t blind. These were S.H.I.E.L.D. field reports and Peter said they’d been following him from birth. Wade had a memory then. It was of the first compound Peter and he ended together. Peter had mentioned her then- he knew. He knew they had watched her. 

 

Wade stared at the picture of her for longer than he was comfortable with. She was beautiful- blue eyes, long, blonde hair. She had this refined look about her, as if she had the world in the palm of her hand and her smile, well, it was just as Wade had pictured it. It made the world feel safe again. Except she wasn’t around to keep that feeling alive and that sensation died with the turn of a page.  

 

The next pages consisted of two autopsy reports, one that led the reader to believe Gwen Stacy died in a tragic fall- an incident so sensationalized it couldn’t possibly be denied as the truth. The other report went into greater detail. A horrific amount of detail that made Wade regret every choice he’d made since leaving Peter back in his apartment. 

 

S.H.I.E.L.D. had stolen the real body, planted a fake, and gone through all of the trouble of making up a story to incriminate Spiderman in the hopes of keeping Peter Parker’s story out of the limelight. They were imbeciles. Peter, in the eyes of the general public, was a  _ prolific serial killer.  _ The Death Angel had been famous for the murders long before S.H.I.E.L.D. realized what he’d done, feared and revered by the people of New York in equal measure. The Death Angel was a threat and a symbol of hope all at once and the name behind the legend was bound to be famous regardless of the involvement of a cop’s daughter. 

 

Their ignorance wasn’t what made Wade’s blood freeze in his veins. 

 

It was the autopsy report. The real one. 

 

{Please stop, I’m begging you- we don’t  _ need to know- _ } 

 

Wade read it twice. Three times. Seven. He read it over and over again until the truth of the events sunk into his very bones and ate away at everything he believed about Peter Parker. 

 

_ Cause of death: singular laceration to the thoracic cavity, extraction of the cardiac muscle.  _

 

[For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I was right about him.] 

 

Wade’s eyes traced over the cause of death almost frantically, willing it to say something that wasn’t there, to offer an explanation that didn’t exist. 

  
He had  _ killed her in her sleep. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I've missed you. Sorry I've been away for so long, I needed a moment for my other projects, but I am back and with a vengeance! 
> 
> I hope you guys had fun this chapter, next chapter is going to be... a wrecker. Before you ask, of course my Peter didn't kill Gwen... on purpose. But there's a lot of reasons he believes he's a monster and it's not just because of terrible psych evals. Things will look up in the chapter after the next! Sort of. Anyway, I know this is a little late, but I hope that's alright. I'll go through and edit it within a week, promise. 
> 
> Love, 
> 
> Katana.

**Author's Note:**

> The question I originally had was: What if PETER was the one that people called the psychopath? What if anyone who saw Spiderman and Deadpool together thought Deadpool was a bad influence, but would be even more horrified if they knew that Wade Wilson is devoted to a mass murderer and defers to no one else? What if. 
> 
> Well, I had a small idea playing in my head, where Deadpool became absolutely obsessed with a convict's smile, and here we are. Enjoy, and please leave a comment as they give me LIFE.


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